If an Autobot do NOT do the following 2
by hummergrey
Summary: Rules to survive, rules to laugh over, cry over and ignore when you want. Add the differences of two races, femmes, sparklings and human teens. What's an Autobot Second in Command to do? Roll with it. STORY ARC: Prime is the result, this is their journey.
1. Chapter 1 Not forgetting

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. New story arc is going to be complicated with the number of mechs and femmes in it and the story itself and I will try to post it without too many time lapses. Starts NEXT chapter.

**_Set ADD STORY TO STORY ALERT to know when the next chapters are posted._ **This is a different fic even though it is a continuation of version 1 (not required reading but enjoyable and funny all the same). All the alerts have to be set here too.

Thanks to Dragoon-Yue for parts of the addicted to humans. Onward to having plans set in place before you need them.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

Inside the main Autobot hanger on Diego Garcia Island, Prowl noted the assembled bots frown or groan as he continued reading the assigned duties list. "Every tropical storm requires extra effort and time. The schedule is adjusted to ensure all personnel are inside and secure well before the approach of the first wall."

"You slagging promised that last time," Ironhide ground out. The black armored mech took a step closer, his hip joint hydraulics hissing as he moved.

"And we still had to rescue boats, on base personnel including one couple who thought it would be a good time to mate on the beach when it was deserted and two idiots who went surfing!" Hound added, his tone more humored than upset. The green armored scout enjoyed the wildness of earth's weather almost as much as its varied land surfaces.

"Those situations were dealt with and all human personnel warned against any repeat performances," the second in command stated then silently reviewed the next section as he didn't remember the list being that lengthy when compiling it the day before.

"And on the next page?" Sideswipe asked, when he hesitated.

"A continuation of a different list," Prowl stated, his optics spinning in tighter. "It reads, "Y_ou know you're addicted to humans when: _

_16.__You are giving them a Cybertronian education per orders then bragging to every bot, that will listen or you manage to corner, how good they are doing and how much you enjoy being their teacher._

_17.__You wonder what they would look like as an Autobot, Dinobot or Aerialbot._

_18. You have to remind yourself that they're made of flesh, not metal with a spark and internal comm system._

_19. You're hyper aware of the fact that they're made of flesh. _*Ratchet, Red Alert, Bumblebee, Ironhide

_20. You're more afraid of their femmes than your own. _*Mechs not named to save their dignity

_21. You understand and copy their culture, including accents and mannerisms, overriding your native Cybertronian one. _*Skids, Mudflap, Bumblebee and Hound

_22. You carry an assortment of pain relieving medications, antiseptics, and bandages in a first aid kit at all times using the excuse you are simply being practical._

_23. You know more about their physiology then their best doctors and often lecture said professionals on how to do their jobs. _*Ratchet

_24. You are jealous of the time they spend with their laptops, music players or cell phones._

_25. Everything designed or made comes in two sizes – Autobot and human, using the excuse it's for the smaller bots even though Arcee, Bumblebee, Cliffjumper, Cosmos, Brawn, Wheelie, Skids and Mudflap have more advanced built in tech. _

_26. Your calendar includes their birthday, medical checkups, all major holidays and personal appointments. _*Bumblebee, Ironhide, and Ratchet.

_27. You thank Primus for bringing them into your existence._

Prowl stopped, skipping the last entry. "Please bring any further copies to my attention." He folded his fingers inward, closing the front of the datapad. Logic computed reading the entire list while his processor refused, protecting their sparks. 'They already know the last entry, no reason to remind them of it,' he processed.

_28. You curse for how short their life spans are compared to yours and how fragile their existence is._

_216. Do not underestimate the length humans will go to in their paranoia, beliefs or fears regarding our existence and those associated with us._

"Looking for a girlfriend?" Mikeala teased Wheelie. The blue mech stood nearby, staring at the car images on her laptop.

"Looking at race cars. Trying to figure out why Jazz would chose one of those bright painted eye sores," he grumbled, hopping down and rolling across the floor to where she sat on the bench. "How long they going to keep us in this jail?" He looked over towards the main door then the glass windows with all the blinds down and closed.

"It's a guest waiting room and Nellis Air Force base is not cleared to know about you guys except for a select few," she gently poked Wheelie in his chest plates.

"My next alt mode is going to be a chainsaw. I can cut through any problems," he grumbled, sitting on his little aft and folding his arms. His extended optics continued to scan for any threat.

"And Jazz's old alt mode is discontinued. The Pontiac brand got rid of the Solstice, his shape. Might draw unwanted attention," Mikeala tried distracting him, uneasy herself as the waiting continued for their friends to return.

"And an Italian race car isn't noticeable?" He quipped, focusing on her.

"Point. But he wanted a DeLorean and that alt mode is specifically is against the rules," she reminded.

"Everything fun is against the rules. Arcee is inbound," he announced, transforming into his remote control truck shape. In under a minute, Mikeala had the laptop closed and in her pink backpack and Wheelie tucked under the other arm. She stepped out, nodding towards the motorcycle and its holographic rider. The rider waved at her, climbing off the bike and entering the waiting lounge and out of view before dissolving into a thousand shimmering lights.

"Short ride. Silverbolt is late. We have instructions to wait in a side hangar and away from the soldiers. Scientific advisors are to meet us there for a short conference," Arcee's voice echoed in the riding helmet. Wheelie was strapped behind the seat before they rolled out, Mikeala appearing to be driving. Wheelie hung onto the bungee cords with both axles as Mikeala tried to relax with Arcee's high speed. "She is a Transformer and will not drop me, run me over or crash into anything. Yah, Mikeala, keep telling yourself that. I'm safe even as that speeding truck is heading our way. Oh man!" she closed her eyes, gasping as they swerved out and around, nearly touching the pavement before balancing.

"Road hog!" Arcee yelled as she raced away. They rolled into the hangar and Mikeala hesitated to get off. "What's wrong?" Arcee whispered. "Do you know them?"

"No, and I'm not sure I want to," she said. "If those are scientists then I'm Ratchet's new sparkmate. Hey," she giggled as the bike under her nearly tipped over as it shook. The men turned, frowning at them.

"Are you from Diego Garcia girl?" the front man asked, his scared face seeming more menacing with his aspy tone. His black suit displayed no identification and he moved with the grace of a fighter, heels up, angled for attack from any direction.

"Yes, I am," Mikeala replied, staying close to Arcee.

"Where is the other? The boy?" he demanded.

"Be here any minute," she answered without specifying. A familiar engine roar approached. Bumblebee, in his yellow and black striped Camaro alt mode rolled in. Sam hopped out the second he stopped, grabbing her in a hug. "Hey beautiful."

"Careful Sam. Those men are trouble, no, don't react," she whisphered as she nuzzled him. "Bee and Arcee can protect us."

"You two, over here. Have questions to ask," the man stated as his dark haired silent companion placed two large silver transport cases on the table.

"You can ask us right here," Mikeala challenged, not wanting to approach. The man narrowed his eyes, one hand sliding his jacket edge back to reveal a holstered gun.

"That was an order child. You have to obey us, now get over here."

"I'm calling for backup," Arcee whispered then quieted as two more men in black suits walked in from outside, causing the teens to move towards the front of Bumblebee's alt mode as they approached, their hands moving towards their holstered guns. Every human turned towards the doors as two more vehicles rolled in. Jolt and Firestar, their holographic drivers keeping the image of normal earth vehicles.

"You, out!" the first man commanded. "Private conference," his hand rested on his gun grip.

"Not anymore," Firestar stated, beginning her transform. "You will not torture our friends," she snapped as Jolt, Bumblebee and Arcee transformed up into their bi pedal modes. Her blaster shot knocked the cases off the table, breaking and spilling their contents. Vials of liquids, needles and plastic tubing fell out.

Bumblebee grabbed Sam close as the man grabbed Mikeala, pinning her arm behind her as he backed up. The main man got red faced, yelling up at the Transformers. "Not torture, saving them! Those vials hold a serum to make them forget. Return them to normal lives away from you."

Mikeala watched the distress on Sam's face as Bumblebee backed away, holding him. The others had their weapons out, targeted on the men and their guns.

"Nobody leaves this hanger without the serum injection or in a body bag. Your choice," the man stated.

"Your terms are acceptable," Arcee growled, weapons clicking to show their readiness.

"Don't worry Sam," Mikeala said as Jolt charged both his energy whips.

"Shut up," he growled, twisting her arm tighter. "We are in charge here. Tell your alien buddies there to back off. This will all be over shortly."

She took a deep breath, "Jolt, med mouse Phoenix one," and closed her eyes, expelling her breath. The blue mech snapped his whip at their feet, the electrical current blasting through their bodies. The Autobots yelled as both their heartbeats stopped, their bodies toppling to the floor. The men stared, too afraid to move.

"NO! Mikeala!" Sam screamed, pulling against Bumblebee's grip.

Jolt bent over her body as Arcee rasied a fist to hit him. "What the slag! You offlined her!"

"Energy can bring her back," he said, blue energy crackling around his fingers as he tapped her chest with one armored finger. Her body arched, her heartbeat stuttering before stopping. Again, he touched her, the charge increased slightly making her body arch. The heartbeat sound was clear as Bumblebee played the steady rhythm over his speakers. He released Sam as the men were cornered at the other end under Autobot control.

She groaned, her eyes fluttering open as they let Sam kneel by her.

"Hey, how do you feel?" He asked, holding her head still with his hands.

"Slagged," she groaned, closing her eyes while folding her fingers around his hand. She blinked, feeling something wet touch her face. Sam was still leaning over her, his tears falling.

"Why?" He asked.

"I wouldn't want to live not knowing you," she answered, her own eyes tearing up.

Bumblebee played a "ahhhhh" sound then helped Sam brace her to a sitting position. A small cleaning cloth appeared out of subspace, the size of a bath towel. Arcee strode over, scanning them both and uplinking to Autobot command as she shut the hangar doors.

"What is Phoenix one?" Arcee asked Mikeala, relaying the scans to Ratchet.

"Medical field protocol. Medics can override any bot; even Optimus has to obey when that level of command is given. That is my word choice. They can refuse but almost never do. Ratchet programmed Jolt to give shocks to restart human hearts when they are down. I used it to stop ours."

"You explain to the others," Jolt begged. "I don't want to be stasis locked or offlined for obeying my programming. And next time, tell me its there!"

"I could say I burned my arm on the stove," she groggily suggested looking at the scorch mark his whip energy had left.

"NO!" they all shouted.

"Ratchet will know my energy pattern and Autobots do not lie. You are one of us remember?" Jolt huffed.

"He says to use cold water to cool it then dry bandage until he can check it himself," Arcee added.

"You're talking to him?" Sam asked, helping lift Mikeala to her feet. She wobbled before a yellow armored braced her.

"He and the others are inbound on Silverbolt. They were to meet us for a ride back to the island," Arcee reminded. Bumblebee transformed, Sam helping Mikeala inside to rest as the seat reclined. She drifted into sleep, her hand in his as they waited. Ratchet rolled in, transforming once the door was shut, optics scanning them before examining the spilled cases. His snarl woke her.

Ratchet pounded a metal fist in to the concrete, smashing the batch he had been examining. "This would have killed them, too concentrated a dose. Lesser and any memory loss would have been transitory. There is no way to mind wipe a human without extensive damage. Those fools were severely misinformed. Am I the only qualified medic on this planet?"


	2. Chapter 2 New Arrivals Femmes

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. If an Autobot do NOT do the following 2 is not an alternate version but an extension of the original fic. Think of it as chapter 2, volume 2, and part 2 whatever to continue. The original was too big to manage and needed fixes in different chapters. I will edit and clean it up in between posting new stuff here or waiting for the right inspiration to hit.

Here will be the new Cybertronian arrivals, the birth of Prime and Elita' sparkling and the usual twin created disasters. Paradron medics, new femmes and expanding out past NEST. Mini story arc piece for now as it is still in progress at the time of this posting. The femmes Gliese and Antares were shown in G1 with Elita's femme team but not named there. Paradron is canon history. Overdrive and Flipside are canon too. More mechs will arrive beside those three also.

Thanks to botosphere, falcon's hyperdrive, and Lunaeshark for several of the addicted to Transformer rules. I do not add holidays into my fics per se but Valentine's Day is approaching and I am a romantic at heart. Good news, here is a Mikeala Sam mix for all their fans. NO SLASH intended! NOT my style. It is Sam and Mikeala, movie verse. Bad news, who gets to tell Wheelie? Onward to matters of the heart and spark.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

_246. Do not use holograms to trick, fool or upset humans who trust in you by pretending to be a member of their family or loved one. _

In the small research hangar, a human and Autobot faced each other. Sam knelt down on one knee, his hands fumbling with his heart thudding in his chest. The ring box was in his hand, as he swallowed yet again. "Will you," he squeaked then coughed, trying to clear his throat. Instead, he gulped while swallowing, triggering a coughing fit. Gasping, hacking, he bent nearly double as his lungs seized. Large yellow armored hands steadied him even as a medical scan tingled across his skin.

"Fine," he croaked out, coughing and hacking while gesturing the scout back. Red faced, teary eyed and feeling sheepish, he breathed in and out, his chest moving with the motion. "Uhm, I want to…that is," he looked up into the kind blue optics and tried again. "Will you…ma..ma…marry me?" He stammered out then flipped the now closed ring case open, sending it flying forward. Bumblebee played a twittering laughing sound as the back of his metal hand scraped across the concrete floor but caught the small case. He handed it back to the human, making a move back gesture and held up four fingers.

"Okay," the boy agreed, "I will try again, take number four." He knelt, the ring case in his open palm. "Will you…. agree… that is…be my mate?" he asked. Bumblebee nodded, playing applause and holding out his hand. Sam started to rise only to snag his pant leg on the back of his sneaker, pulling his pants down as his body rose up. Fumbling, the boy grabbed at his sagging jeans as he stumbled, resting up against Bee's outstretched hand.

"Snap!" the boy heaved out. "If I can't pretend to ask you, how I am ever going to ask Mikeala for real!" he moaned in frustration, raising both hands in the air and flopping down to sit on the concrete floor.

Behind him, the door opened silently then Mikeala walked in, finger against her lips for silence. Bumblebee pointed down at Sam, then raised his thumb to show the young man was okay. He looked at her then him as his optics went wide. Tapping metal fingers together, he got his attention.

Bumblebee held his hands out a space, whistling then a light bulb hologram image appeared over his helm. He bent down, optics shuttering rapidly as a duplicate holographic image of Sam formed between his open armored hands. It morphed into Mikeala, clothes shifting to match her current outfit before the shape walked behind Sam and out of his range. It disappeared as the real Mikeala moved forward.

"Might work," the boy murmured. He dusted off his pants as he stood up, facing her. Walking close, he smiled. "She is so beautiful 'Bee. I do not know why she stays with me. I had to die to tell her the right words. Do you think she knows how much I love and need her?" He looked back at his guardian, missing her expression and the rapid blinking as her eyes moistened. He turned back and she went still.

He knelt, holding out the jeweler's case. "Mikeala, will you marry me? Be mine forever as I am yours and have always been?"

"Yes," she stated, hands going to her mouth as her eyes shone brightly. She held out her hand, letting Sam slide the ring on her left hand. He held her hands, leaning in for a kiss when he screamed, jumping backwards.

"Sam! What the?" she challenged, stepping back in surprise.

"You, you're, not a holo, I touched…" his head switched back from her to Bumblebee as the color drained from his face. He wavered on his feet as she grabbed him, lowering his body down. "Put your head between your knees and breathe Sam. No, do not hyperventilate. Just in and out, in and out, like that," she encouraged, biting her lip to keep from laughing. Bumblebee thudded to the ground, his entire chassis shaking as his vocalizer emitted bursts of static. They both stared at him then realized he was on the floor laughing.

"I suppose he will be your best man or rather, best bot?" she asked, leaning down to kiss Sam on his cheek before shifting her hand for the small diamond to reflect the light.

"I'm thinking of eloping," he muttered, trying to breathe normally.

_You know you are addicted to Transformers when:_

_36. You feel a mild flash of panic whenever your instant messenger pops up with [insert friend's name] is now 'offline.' _

_37. At the drive-up burger restaurant, your kids tell you to order Dinobot nuggets and Autobot energon french-fries with chocolate-chip energon cookies for dessert! _

_38. You are looking at that baby toy with the cars, trains, and hot air balloons, and when you move the cars along on the wire, the first thing you think is, "Autobots roll out." _

_39. You name paper airplanes after Seekers, Decepticon or Aerialbots, while stuck in a boring conference call or budget meeting. * Truly addicted has you searching through all the office supplies to find the right colored markers for their wing colors afterwards._

_40. A car flashes its lights and you think its saying hello instead of the automated non-sentient car alarm warning. _

_41. You wish your dentist could give you a battle mask._

_42. You wish your diet were as easy as choosing between energon and high grade. _

_43. The mud flap behind your pickup or truck tire has the outline of Elita or Arcee instead of a human shape *Never let femmes or Prime discover that! If they do, see rule # 44._

_44. You want to stay in med bay and not a hospital, clinic, or doctor's office. _

_45. The bobble head on your car dash is a Transformer, not a hula girl. * Bought on e-bay and repainted by you._

Prowl read the list, noting the memo about replacing burnt out security lights was signed by four base personnel while the addicted list on the reverse had thirty-two comments and signatures endorsing it. "Primus, if you are listening, can the new team members be less of a challenge and more accommodating to the life forms on this world?"

_**Story Arc – Hidden within a Spark (pt 2)**_

The Autobots waited, optics intent as the first of the new arrivals neared. Their hot entry landing comets had already slammed into the ground, releasing their protoforms as Optimus and his team were leaving the NEST base. A relay signal had sent them into hiding; the area was mostly trees and rocks tapering into nearby mountains, providing cover without risking the new arrivals. Ultra Magnus and Ironhide stood on either side of Optimus, in his command mode as Prime. Prowl and Hound flanked them, the next line of defense as a precaution. Arcee and First Aid waited by Silverbolt, in visual range but keeping the escape way clear if they had to evacuate out.

The first arrival was a femme with a tan protoform, rare in its light color among their race as her size, barely Bumblebee's height. Her Autobot symbol was dead center on her chest, with a differing design. Her multi faceted optics spun as she focused systematically on each mech, keeping her distance. Four more Cybertronians approached, stopping behind her.

"What's with your symbol? It's Autobot but not a variation I recognize," Ironhide stated, keeping his cannons rolling with safeties engaged as she focused on him.

"Paradron Autobot," she answered then vented, seeing their blank optical looks.

"The Paradron colony is a legend," Ultra Magnus murmured, scanning her more intently, unable to reach past her natural armor shielding.

"It's real, I've been there," Prime corrected. His regal baritone was precise and commanding. "Colony formed by residents of Cybertron before the planet wide Autobot forces combined under one Prime. They were those who chose not to fight. Its location is highly classified and nigh unreachable. The entire colony is devoted to research and improvement in every science field, especially medical."

"I'm a seventh generation medic, designation Amiodarone or Rone. We formed two teams, one to help each side without taking a side, left our colony to fulfill our oaths to heal in the last vorn," she stated, shuttering her eyes as her arms folded tight across her chest plates.

"Decepticons offlined their team didn't they?" Optimus stated quietly in the silence.

"Yes. We carry no weapons and the other team were all larger, sentinel class mechs as a precaution. They never gave them a chance. No interrogations and no offers of surrender; they opened fire once the medics identified themselves. The last mech broke free long enough to give us a warning. Then the Decepticons hunted my team. I escaped with another femme but her spark chamber was breached. I was unable…." She trailed off, the distress silencing her vocals. Venting rapidly, she continued, "I heard your call to the stars and came, meeting up with the others. I dare not return to Paradron least they follow." The four other femmes stood behind her, making comforting noises while encircling her protectively.

Two were Ironhide's height and both light green protoforms with normal blue optics. Their build was similar though the right one was of older design, sporting a hand blaster as the heavier armored femme wore a shoulder cannon. The heavier built one stepped forward, gesturing at herself and the other femme.

"Gliese and my femme parental unit Antares," she identified.

"Mother and daughter?" Hound stammered out, then lightly overheated.

"And welcome. Elita will be pleased you are here," Optimus stated, stepping forward to clasp her hand in greeting.

"Not pleased. They overran us on Cybertron, forcing us to abandon our outpost. We intend to stay and recover and plan our next move," Antares ground out.

"Moving is what it's all about, designation ... 'Override,'" the tallest femme posed, ignoring the mech's groans. Her red protoform was striking in color as her sleek build and she smirked as they remembered her.

"As I the twins weren't enough trouble," Ironhide covered his optics with a black armored hand.

"Previous conduct does indicate future action," the fourth femme added, her dark grey protoform plain and unmarked. "I'm designation Flipside. Teacher and researcher."

"Where are the mechs? There were three following," Antares asked.

"Mirage, Huffer and Windcharger," Gilese added.

"Spy, pessimist and gung ho twit, just what we needed," Ironhide grumbled.

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3 Twins, traps and clans

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews and if you are reading this, you found the newest and latest chapters. To answer a recurring question, the term "_**canon**_" means following the authoritative, official historical version. In other words, in the 1980's G1 cartoon, Optimus was a Prime who shared his bond, spark energy or life force with Elita One after she overdid stopping time to save him from the Decepticons. Canon has him Prime and not Bumblebee or Arcee as the Prime and his mate is Elita One not Firestar or Override. Same episode had Ironhide with Chromia. Their pairings are _**canon**_ and part of the trademarked, patented, official copyrighted and legally owned universe.

Rule #249 idea goes to fantasyaddict101 here on fan fic. Several of the tag lines are actually hers from e-mails we have exchanged. And should I do a Sam and Mikeala wedding? Mixed in rules or as a later story arc? Next chapters are in progress but not complete. Onward to new arrivals and new problems.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

_236. Do not attempt any task for which you are not prepared mentally or physically or assign that task to a fellow bot or human that is not prepared. Your spark can be moved to a new shell, the humans have only their one frame._

The Autobot designed research hangar at Diego Garcia NEST base was quiet, while the side room attachment resounded with the twins comments and metal clicks. The afternoon tropical sun shone brightly through the skylights, as the occasional breeze moved the awning covers to create a rippling light pattern on the white walls. The orange and green mini mechs never noticed, their entire focus on their assigned task.

"Don't go triggering any of these yo!" Skids warned, his green armored hands pulling another metal rounded shape from the crate then setting it a short distance away on the smooth concrete floor.

"I ain't stupid," Mudflap countered, using both orange armored hands to flatten the trap sides of his unit. "How we get stuck with this?" He balanced the trap open, oiling the springs and calibrating the energy signature sensor.

"Cause we forgot to set the ninja clowns with an off switch," he countered, both laughing from memories of that prank. He turned, reaching for the crate to bump into his twin, bouncing off his rounded chest armor like a ball.

Hey!" He said, pushing at his brother. "You work that half the room, this my half." His twin grumbled, making a gesture before moving to the other side of the crate to work. It was quickly emptied and they moved to the next crate, keeping the room divided.

They continued laying down the traps, oiling and resetting the sensors; working from the outer walls inward to avoid bumping into each other.

"Any pranks for these?" Skids asked, his green face plates thoughtful.

"Nah man, these dangerous. Painting armor or dumping glue and unfolded road maps all over a bot while recharging is a prank. Taking off a foot pad, that ain't funny," Mudflap countered, shaking his head. They continued setting the traps until all five crates were emptied and they stood back to back.

"Uh, bro?" he tapped his orange armored twin on his shoulder plate, slowly turning him around. Their optics scanned as they turned in a tight circle, completely surrounded by layers of cleaned, ready to trigger spring traps.

::What is the easiest way to disable a spring trap?:: Mudflap

::Where did it get Skids?:: Ironhide's mental voice was not even exasperated, more patient than it usually sounded.

::Didn't, not yet:: Skids interrupted, sending a data packet flash of the problem.

In the main hanger, Ironhide chuckled drawing curious looks from the soldiers. Standing alone, the ancient warrior mech rubbed at his chin plates with an armored hand without explaining. The human soldiers gave him a wide arc, knowing that sound meant trouble. Transforming down into his Topkick truck alt mode, he drove out of the hanger and directly to the side building. Warning signs proclaimed the area off limits in several languages including Cybertronian glyphs. He pulled up to the door, transforming and signaling Chromia.

::Ram asleep?:: Ironhide sent to his sparkmate over their personal frequency.

::No, why? And where are you? You helped create this spark, how about helping raise him?:: Chromia sent with affection overlaying her words. ::When I said I wanted a mech all the time in my quarters this wasn't what I had in my processors::

::Be there shortly but first Lesson 1 for a warrior, pay attention to your surroundings:: Ironhide sent to Ram and Chromia as he paused in the doorway, his systems linking into the security cameras and relaying the image of the trapped minor twins. Wordless amusement flowed back from his son, unable to fully understand what was happening but recognizing the twins.

"Anytime now," Skids gestured a green armored hand from the center of the room.

"Don't move," Ironhide warned, smirking. He pulled out a small square shape from a hidden shoulder hatch, pressing on all four sides of the square in a distinct pattern. Cupping it in his hand, he flipped it up into the air over the twins helms before his massive black armored figure dove, sliding on the floor behind the protective wall.

Time seemed to slow as the twins optics shuttered, their chassis bracing. The cube flared with deep purple energy, surrounding them with a square force shield before exploding energy all directions.

Ironhide chuckled, hearing the cube trigger followed by snaps as every trap triggered to mix with the twins screaming. 'Never tire of those sounds,' he processed. Rising to his feet, he braced ever careful of his one misaligned hip cog. Striding back, he peeked around the corner, charred slagged traps every direction surrounding two shaking mini mechs.

::It's safe, you can open your optics now brave warriors:: Ironhide sent, folding his arms across his top chest plate.

"What was that?" Mudflap lifted his helm first, optics wide.

"Shielding cube. Was getting old and losing strength down to the point of either using it for practice or letting it fade out inactive. Here is as good as the target range," he said. Internally, Ram was chirping his delight at the lights and sounds.

::Lessons 1 huh? Lesson 2 is never keep your femme waiting::Chromia

::That is not a lesson, that is a rule of survival::Ironhide

::Survival as in me not kicking your aft?:: Chromia

::As in I never want to survive past your existence femme. You are the reason I fight, the reason I endure and the one sight that fills my spark and optics with hope. Your touch undoes the pain of my battles and reminds me joy can still exist:: Ironhide sent then frowned as the comm line disconnected.

The drive to their quarters passed without a signal from Chromia. Transforming, he approached their door slowly. No sarcastic comment or red optic glaring femme met him when it opened. Stepping inside, he saw Chromia waiting inside the doorway to their private recharge area.

"Do you mean that?" She asked, moving forward, her dark blue armored hands outstretched.

"With all my spark," he vented, pulling her close to his chest plates. "You should know that by now."

"I have never forgotten it. The meaning behind the words fade from my processor amid the sorrow and pain," she murmured as his hands shifted lower on her chassis before he swung her up in his arms.

::Enough talking femme. Time to make new memories:: Ironhide growled.

Ten minutes later, Ram watched wide optic from his corner bunk as their sparks merged in an electrifying display. He blinked and giggled at the pretty lights, not knowing he would soon have a sibling.

_249. Do not use human phrases in our official correspondence and do not encourage the use of our language or customs in theirs. _

In Major Will Lennox's private office in the main hangar, Epps mumbled, typing on his laptop before erasing whatever it was he was typing. His dislike of reports and forms was legendary, hence why he often worked on them away from other ears to hear his comments.

"What are you doing?" Will finally asked, watching the play of emotions flow across the face of his fellow soldier sitting opposite him at the same desk.

"Working on a tag line," the Master Sergeant replied, shaking a closed fist at the screen. "Can't find the right one and it's frustrating me."

"Tag line? Combat map or drill plan?" Lennox got up, walking around to glance over his shoulder, seeing only a writing program with a few lines.

"Tag line as unique signature. You know, "_Until all are one_." The Transformers have the best and it is theirs," Epps explained as if it should have been obvious.

Will sighed then thought about it. "How about, 'playing around when I should be working on official time?"

"No," the man muttered, "leaves the wrong impression. These are okay but not what I want," he gestured to the screen as his command officer began reading.

_Until I coax my car into telling me that it is actually a robot in disguise_

_Until Sideswipe and I remember where we left Sunstreaker_

_Until Optimus gets a real paint job and grows up_

_Until Prowl meows_

_When Ratchet loses all his wrenches and we find peace_

_When Ironhide uses words more than cannons to get his way_

_When Bumblebee gets a buzz on_

_Looking forward to the day human Primes rule_

_After I quibble and marry a femme _

"Do you have a death wish?" Will slapped the back of Epps head. "The Pentagon will never allow e-mail tags like that and you could never send one to a Transformer. They respect our humor even if they don't understand it but these...," he couldn't think of the right word.

"Standard tag line?"

"Yes, your name, rank and military command assigned to," Will affirmed before walking back to his computer to finish his message to his wife and daughter.

_Will Lennox, friend of Ironhide, Chromia and Transformers, protector of earth and commander of NEST forces._

_**Story Arc - **__**Hidden within a Spark (part 3)**_

On the mainland, the newly arrived Autobot femme Gilese formed a smiled across her lip plates as she looked at Hound. The green armored scout smiled back, staying close to her as they talked while waiting for the remaining comet landings. The clear night sky was broken only by their bright blue optics. The other Transformers waited nearby, a few chirping and clicking in their native language, while most linked into the satellite relays to track. Optimus stood alone, optics dim as he multi tasked with Ratchet and Elita at Diego Garcia.

::Found your mech already?:: Antares

::Is that all you process parental unit of mine?:: Gilese responded, turning her head to look back at the other femme.

::Not _all_, though he is suitable. A scout to leave you time of your own and under Prime's command. Good frame, sturdy personality core and interested in you:: Antares sent, the amusement clear in her mental tone. ::Your mech parental unit took awhile to locate. Advising you to keep your optics moving before choosing::

The younger femme refused to rise to the verbal bait, use to it. While the older femme might appear mech happy, or even tease to the point of offending, she knew the utter devotion Antares had to her spark mate. Even thousands of orns of war and time apart had not diminished their spark call.

"What clan are you from?" Antares asked, keeping her faceplates normal. He answered and she nodded while processing, 'one of the common larger ones formed later. No surprise there.'

"And yours?" Hound asked.

"Beta-tine Suppor -triare," she answered, waiting for his reaction.

"Sounds familiar," he said, optics dim as he researched and accessed his files.

"I know them," Ultra Magnus stated, joining the conversation. "Descendants of Beta?"

"Yes."

"Beta?" Hound echoed.

"At the time of the Quintesson rebellion, thirteen mechs and femmes founded a war council to lead the revolt and free our race from being their slaves. A slave mech designated A3 teamed with a slave femme designated Beta and she earned a place in our history. Seven clans formed from those original thirteen. Two clans ceased to be and the other five continue with direct descendants. Arcee is a Beta descendant. You really should ask Prime more about their line or her," the tall commander focused on them both.

"Oh, why?"

"Because Hound, A3 became Alpha Trion who raised Optimus and Megatron as younglings. I know he mentioned his part in the freeing of our race and who he fought with."

"I think all we know how to do is war," Rone commented softly. The medic stood quietly among the more outward going femmes.

"Not all," Hound and Ultra Magnus both corrected.

Flipside moved into her line of vision as a courtesy, "I can exchange our mutual histories when you are available. I have kept records for thousands of years as a researcher and would like to update my files on Paradron."

"Not its location," the other femme instantly replied.

"Are you mated Commander?" Antares asked Ultra Magnus, gesturing behind her back at him for Gilese to notice him.

"I am oath sworn my lady," he half bowed in the old ways of their race. "I protect and assist femme Silverblade and her sparkling Estel."

Antares' optics spun tightly with near shock. "Oath sworn? I have not heard that since before the fall of Iacon. In all my travels I had not thought to find that tradition still honored. I must meet this femme of yours."

"Hey Prime?" Hound called, suddenly processing an idea. "Think we can introduce our new friends here to the Allspark? Transfer their knowledge to it?"

"The Allspark? It was destroyed," Flipside corrected.

"It has been rebuilt with the help of the human Primes. I will introduce you to them when we return to base," Optimus corrected then noticed his weapons specialist frowning.

::You sure that is wise? Risking the kids that way? Sam can handle himself but Sarah may not approve of Annabelle meeting new unknowns:: Ironhide

:: We will monitor them and introducing them as their rank will settle any questions over their abilities, being human:: Optimus reminded.

"There!" Red Alert shouted, pointing skyward at three inbound balls of molten fire.

"Going to overshoot," Hound calculated as they burned lower, resisting the urge to duck as they flamed overhead.

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4 New mechs and how they met

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews and adding the story alerts here to keep up on new postings. I will be updating my other fics _Elita's Revenge_ and _Silverblade and the Sparkling_ soon.

Thanks to ladyofdarkstar for the lines about sparklings and base coding, a fantastic concept and great writing. And thanks to fantasyaddict101 for her beta of the Ironhide and Chromia sequence and to all my fans and suggestion makers. Onward to choosing what you do but not how others see you.

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_223. When a human asks, 'How did you learn to fight?' do Not answer: _

_a. I started dated femmes. _

_b. I was the youngest of seven mechs._

_c. Dancing with a Decepticon. They so want to lead and push you into oblivion. _

_d. Learn? I am still learning. And speaking of which, I need to practice my close range targeting locks. Hold this and do not move fleshling. _

_e. Academy weapons, tactics and strategy 101, 102, 200, 201, 202 … ten minutes later… 1251, 1252. What? We live for thousands of years; do you know how many continuing education classes fit in that time span? _

_f. I do not fight, I win. That is why I am still here. _

_g. I was bored and thought, hey fighting beats running and screaming when the Decepticons attack. _

_h. When my middle began widening and my chin plates added a third plating down. Needed good exercise to get my energon pump going. _

_i. Come by it naturally. (pose and look arrogant) _* Sideswipe, Sunstreaker

_j. Why? I am good at teaching but you are hopeless squishy._

_k. I fight and save your fragile skin, which is all you need to know._

_l. First time I pulled my chassis out of the pavement following a Decepticon attack I learned to fight quickly. _

_m. I am too kind for a medic, too patient to teach weapons, too small to carry a matrix so fighting works. _*Arcee

_n. Why? Are you challenging my ability to handle things? _

Mikeala Banes, fiancée of interplanetary ambassador and human Prime Samuel Witwicky, and the sole recognized and certified human trainee of Chief Medical Officer Ratchet made more goo goo sounds at the young sparkling. Ram giggled, spinning his tiny blue optics in and out, as she made faces and sounds. She tickled his chin plates, and then realized it had no effect on the metal being. His optics remained fixed on her as he sat on the scan berth in med bay.

"Rub across his helm vents," Ratchet advised, his multi layered optics slowing their medical scans. Mikeala gently did then increased the pressure until he responded. He tapped her arm with a tiny servo, wiggling his fingers.

"How soon until he gets weapons?" she asked, watching him hold his metal fingers against hers and comparing them.

"Several shell enhancements from now. His spark needs to grow and stabilize before we add engines, core enhancements or increases enough to power a connected device. Should the need arise, we can equip him with a subspace field puller and a hand held blaster. His targeting processes exist at an instinctive level already, but physical coordination is an issue, and we are here to protect him," Ratchet explained. Ironhide watched from the other side of the medical scan berth while Chromia provided reassuring comfort to him, keeping one armored hand firmly on his shoulder plate.

"How can he have instinctive targeting when he is so little and cute?" Mikeala asked, waving at him.

"We have base programming, even as a sparkling. There is code within our sparks, otherwise we would be as your race likes to think of us. Machines without life and emotion. What we call base code, humans call instinct, transform sequencing including. I used the word "instinctive" for your understanding," Ratchet continued, handing Ram over to Chromia. "Fully functional. Call me if anything changes, no matter how minor. I have work to do, med bay does not run itself. Mikeala, return this afternoon for further training."

Both parents vented softly in reassurance, Ironhide offering his armored hand for Mikeala to ride on. She waved to Ratchet as they left medbay. She sat quietly as they continued down the hallway, outside and over to the Autobot recreation building. Inside it, Chromia cuddled her sparkling while Mikeala watched from a super size metal tabletop as Ironhide got energon cubes.

"I have to admit," Mikeala began. "I never thought you would be first couple to have a sparkling, not that you won't be great parents. You're both great fighters and I bet you met at the target range and it was love at first blast."

"We had different lives once. I was bodyguard to the new Prime, standing by his side while listening to needless quibbling about the costs of arming more troops. A flicker of a targeting lock and I am in motion, taking a hit that nearly crushes the front of my spark chamber. The fighting continues when a certain femme reaches down, grabbing and pulling me to cover behind an overturned table, swearing about my mass and stupidity," he reminisced, running one finger across his son's helm, rewarded with his giggling. He kept the energon cube out of the little mech's reach in his other hand.

"I was there to help with the reports, demonstrate why better weapons cost more. Then the energon hit the spinner. Prime tried protecting _him_, leaving himself a target, that's why I dragged Ironhide away," Chromia corrected. "Their determination to get the Prime brought the 'Cons to my weapons range."

"Hah! Sneaky femme wanted me," the ancient mech growled. "I came online in med bay, her sitting by my side. Medic tries to escort her out and ends up on the floor with a blaster wedged against his forehead between his optics," Ironhide continued with a smirk before drinking from his energon cube.

"I had orders to watch him and notify Prime the moment he came online. Medic interfered with my duties," she quipped, finishing her cube.

"She introduces herself to me before verbally chomping me for needing repairs that leave our Prime unguarded. I tell her off and she smirks, promising to teach me how to duck if I teach her how to shoot better. We found were good at fighting and together the Decepticons fear us. We watch the glow fade from their optics; the crunch of their armor as it blows apart, trying to save fellow bots from their terrible weaponry. We are warriors by choice," Ironhide stated.

Mikeala shifted in her stance, a bit uneasy at what Ironhide had just described. "Do you two, you know, live for that?"

Chromia answered softly, "No. We live for a peaceful future...for our son and all other future sparklings. We know that each fighting 'Con offlined is a better chance for our race," she ended in almost a whisper as she gently kissed the helm of Ram.

"And for him?" she asked.

"I want Ram to make his own choice," the old warrior huffed. "If he wants to be a scout, a medical field tech, or even team command like Prime, I will be there for him. But I will not force him onto the battlefield. If Primus listens, he will never need to fire his weapon at anything but holographic practice targets by the time he is old enough to make that choice."

"And his mom wants?" Mikeala asked Chromia. The dark blue armored femme seriously considered the question before placing her empty energon cube down.

"The same," she answered, forming a smile as Ram began to recharge in the crook of her blue plated arm. "This war will end. My desire is to be there with Ironhide and Ram to see it. Even," she smirked, "a few more sparklings including one of Ratchet's."

Ironhide sputtered, nearly spraying his energon mouthful everywhere. He shuddered, wiping at the blue droplets running down his black armored chest layers. "Funny femme, real funny."

She smirked, handing him a cleaning cloth while balancing the recharging sparkling. "Would be. The one being he would utterly and completely love more than his med bay and not be able to throw a wrench at."

Ironhide processed the last, suddenly smirking. "Serve that slagger right. Ow!" he yelped as Chromia belted him up alongside his head plates with a deep blue armored fist.

"No swearing!" she snapped. "Bad enough you taught Annabelle. You will not teach Ram too."

"How was I to know Annabelle would listen and learn? Most humans never pay attention to what we say," Ironhide gruffed.

_233. Do not change our designated vocal patterns. Humans rely heavily on familiar sounds and speech patterns without our sheer range of capabilities confusing them. _

Prowl tapped his white armored fingers on the datapad sitting on his desk, considering adding an exemption clause for Hound. "His holograms require him to imitate every bot he appears like. Wonder how the humans would feel if they knew he stores, recreates and can duplicate every sound across the audio spectrum. Their advanced technology is worthless against his voice and retina recreations. Then again, they reversed engineered the identifying technology from Megatron. Primus help us if a Prime or Matrix ever fell into their hands." He shuddered before logic coding banished the idle speculation into a deep processing core. The second in command regarded the rule's wording then added it into the official list. "What harm can sounds do?"

Inside Major Will Lennox's human size office, four officers sat their files and assorted laptops down, ready to begin reviewing monthly file reports. Coffee cups jostled, power cords plugged in and chairs arranged.

"I can't believe," Master Sergeant Epps began razzing his best friend. "Some of the Transformers messes you get caught in. Run over by Ironhide, pranked by the twins and the situations involving your Annabelle. "

"Me?" Major Will Lennox challenged, looking up from sorting the piles of reports on his office desk. "How about you and the strip poker game?

"That? It was a legitimate way to see under their armor," he blushed.

"Until the twins cheated," the British born Graham added, adding his signature and stamp to the first reports.

"And Ratchet appeared as you were nearly done stripping," Lennox chuckled.

"And had a fit," Jorgenson added, swinging her red hair ponytail behind her shoulder while grinning.

"He has fits on everything. Different day, same yelling and wrench throwing. How do you tell the difference?" Epps complained, waving a hand and nearly hitting her. She frowned, leaning out of the way and shifting her chair more to the right.

"Still, he had a point. It looked compromising with undressed human and protoform mechs," Graham reminded, sipping his tea.

"Mechs _not _femmes and he could see the gambling chips and cards on the table with each of us in our own chair _and no physical contact_. He knew that!" Epps practically yelled.

"Calm down, we're not accusing you of anything," Will encouraged. His laptop booted up and they froze as the transform sound came from it. In a single motion, the soldiers moved to the farthest corners of his office, guns drawn and aimed at the device. It displayed no arms, head or other moving parts even as the transform sound repeated. Will raised one hand out, palm up in the designated gesture for 'hold your fire' as he crept closer to it. The sound occurred and he leaned in close, noting the small white box in the corner, displaying a new mail notification message. "Relax, it's the mail alert."

"And what is wrong with "_you got mail_?" Epps muttered, replacing his gun.

"Transformers playing with the computers again. Changed the sounds to phrases. Wonder what else they changed," he muttered, reading the messages. "Pentagon notice, distribute and post a copy. New security notice." He ignored their groans, moving the mouse and clicking the print icon.

"In the brig!" Prowl's voice commanded from the speakers.

Everyone looked at him and his laptop. "The wireless printer connection is disabled. Error message beep. Kind of like that one." Intrigued, he tried it again.

"In the brig!" Prowl's voice commanded again.

"Try others," Jorgenson suggested. "The Recycle trash can?"

The sounds of Ironhide's cannons rolling and firing filled the office as they laughed.

"Going online?" Will wondered, clicking internet explorer.

"I send this message to any surviving Autobots taking refuge among the stars. We are here, we are waiting," Optimus regal baritone calmly stated.

"Blocking a pop up window?" Graham suggested next.

The sounds of Ratchet yelling and the reverberating clang of a wrench hitting a wall sounded echoed made them laugh hard.

"How about signing off?" Epps suggested, wiping at his teary eyes.

"Transform and roll out," Optimus voice commanded.

**Story Arc -** _**Hidden within a Spark (part 4)**_

The Autobots watched, optics shuttering as the three comets overshot and slammed into the ground, throwing dust and debris into the air. Optimus and Prowl waited, sending out their command signals. First Aid and Silverbolt provided a defensive guard as Ultra Magnus, Ironhide and Hound neared the comet impacts. Arcee stood with the newly arrived femmes, demonstrating her complete and utter trust of the mechs.

::You are safe. Weapons on standby and identify yourself:: Prime, Command Autobot Forces.

::Safe? Humph. Nowhere is safe:: Huffer, Autobot engineer

::Safe? Be nice for a change oh look, comet left a burning path. Surface is soft and springy and the stars are unfamiliar. Whom are we meeting again?:: Windcharger

::Optimus Prime and Second In Command Prowl. Autobots approaching are Commander Ultra Magnus, Weapons Specialist Ironhide and Scout First Class Hound:: Prowl

::Commander and weapons specialist and this planet is safe? Remind me not to find out your definition of dangerous:: Huffer

::Wow, variety of heights and sizes in you mechs. Any femmes?:: Windcharger asked then transformed into his Cybertronian mode, floating across the ground past them.

Ironhide rolled his cannons, targeting the fast moving red air vehicle when Ultra Magnus grabbed his arm.

::He is impulsive, impatient but not a threat. Watch, he will get distracted :: Ultra Magnus sent to Ironhide alone. Windcharger crossed the distance then swerved to the left, transforming back to his bi pedal mode to examine Silverbolt as he hid in his plane alt mode. The small red mech held his arms out to the side, energy faintly crackling along them. The electromagnetic field formed, lifting Silverbolt into the air as Windcharger walked underneath, optics intent.

::Hey!:: Silverbolt protested.

::Easy, he wants to scan your alt mode. He is curious and nothing more:: Optimus

::See and _not _touch. And he could have asked me:: Silverbolt grumbled as his alt form lowered slowly to the ground.

"Where is the third mech?" First Aid asked, looking around. "The impact zone is empty. Anyone have a signal? Distress call, anything?" They all scanned the area, listening and tracking. Optimus strode two steps forward, optics intent on the empty ground in front of their group. The slightest indentation in the dirt appeared.

"Mirage, show yourself and quit lurking," Prime quietly commanded.

"How did you know?" a mechanical tenor voice asked as a silver and blue mech wavered into view out of thin air. His blue optics were calm as he regally watched them gasp in startled reaction.

"Experience. Comes with being a Prime," Optimus stated.

"May that experience bring an end to this war. Too many of the finer things have been lost with the fighting, but not all." He bowed towards the femmes, raising his hand to touch the Autobot signal on his chest then the top of his helm . "Your beauty femmes restore my spark and my hope for a civilized existence."

"Show off," Hound muttered, noticing the femmes drawn to his protoform coloring and manners.

::He is high family. Arrogant, cultured and knows it:: Gilese sent to him alone.

::Not your type?:: Hound turned, noting the down turn of her lip plates.

::Slagging no! I joined the war to save our freedoms, not enslave it under rules and protocols. My clan is ancient and honored but my family line is small and worked for every right we earned:: Gilese

::Mirage earned his right on my command team with spilt energon and parts. Be reassured. I will not tolerate thick chips or fractured processors. His haughtiness is his weakness but none of us are without fault:: Optimus overlaid their comm line before turning to face the others.

"The challenges of this new world are many and our Decepticon foes remain. The native race is sentient but small and fragile. We protect, the Decepticons destroy. But fate has yielded us a home here and we have sparklings, our race continues," Optimus said.

Gilese smiled at Hound as Antares rolled her optics. Override kicked a stone into the air, both shoulder cannons targeting it without firing. It ricocheted off Huffer, causing him to turn and glare. His silver faceplates contrasted with his purple helm as he twitched. She smiled, nudging another stone with her footpad his direction.

"I say we leave right now and forget about traipsing after the stupid Decepticons," he grumbled, stepping behind Windcharger. "This world is primitive, first thing would be adding roads. How are we suppose to travel around here? I'm an engineer not a warrior and this mud ball world looks bare," Huffer grumped.

"Keep it up and I'll use my tractor beam to throw you back to Cybertron myself," Windcharger said.

Ironhide shuttered his optics as Optimus pinched his nose plates with one hand. Prowl vented, his wings doors fanned out at an angle with his silent exasperation.

"I'm going to love it here," Antares declared.

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5 Femmes and mechs

_Author's Notes: _Thanks for the reviews. Never know which chapter or rule is going to be a hit and which will be read and just okay or the theme that will progress and appear. And I do try to show Transformers as more than a good laugh as they try to adapt into our culture. Moreover, I am not picking on Sam but needed a good reason for him to stay on base and work on the upcoming wedding with Mikeala and the Autobots. February is considered a romantic month hence more relationship pairings upcoming.

Thanks to fantasyaddict101 for her beta help on rule 221. Credit to fellow writer ladyofdarkstar for story reference of Ratchet losing his first designated mate. They never completed the spark merge, thus why he was not offlined following her loss. But Ratchet loved her and mourns her still in his own way. He will not end up with the Paradron medic Rone. I prefer the canon pairing of Moonracer. So no wrench throwing please. Onward to matters of the spark and never being too late to start changing our lives.

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_221. Do not assume there is a fast, easily discernible reason for either race's habits or behaviors. There is more than meets the eye to both our cultures. _

"Why are there no female seekers?" Master Sergeant Epps speculated, as he waited on the communications platform. General Morshower and the Pentagon were about to get an updated briefing about the latest mission, from both Autobots and humans. "Were they not allowed?"

"There were femme seekers," Optimus answered, moving closer. The tall red and blue armored mech moved gracefully, systems hissing and whirring. "I have known nineteen in my existence, all Autobot. The Decepticons fought them in terrible aerial battles and won by greater numbers rather than tactics or skill. Starscream only lost once in the aerial combat free trials before the war and that was to a femme. Once he made Decepticon commander, he and his two wing mates Thundercracker and Skywarp were a seeker trine and even the best flyer cannot win one against three."

"Seekers are always aggressive, not like runners," Hound commented. The green armored scout scowled, having seen the attacks and their dreadful results.

"Their personality core is rarer with narcissistic and controlling behavior," Ratchet corrected. "Traits that compliment the detailed expertise required for flying but lacking in terms of long term relationships. And there are more classifications than seeker and runner. The exact terms do not translate into your primitive language."

"Meaning?" Graham blinked as he tried to figure out the wording.

"They are selfish, rude and obsessive. Make good pilots but lousy partners," Hound translated, ignoring Ratchet's glare.

"Do all male seekers become Decepticons?" Captain Jorgensen asked, tucking her red hair ponytail around her uniform collar. She leaned back in her chair, intent on learning more about their race.

"No!" The mechs said in unison.

"The Aerialbots are seekers," Prowl reminded, his doors flaring out with his internal agitation. They were in the brig for the latest prank involving the NASA space shuttle and the NASA meetings from their recent adventure kept him from his beloved work on the rules.

"Forgot about them," Epps muttered.

"Why are the femmes so?" The British officer Graham hesitated on the exact word, not wanting to offend, glancing over at Jorgensen.

"Strong?" Optimus chuckled. "They have always been equals on our world. When they existed in the millions they had diverse talents, occupations and attitudes. Then our numbers began dwindling as the war progressed. We were offlined to the hundreds of thousands then thousands. With the Allspark sent into space, the focus shifted back to them."

"Suddenly their attitudes, beliefs and practices became important as part of their identity beyond a means of continuing our race," Prowl continued.

"The strongest survived by fighting through," Ironhide said.

"And they are a reflection of their mates. Chromia for Ironhide, Elita as the femme commander offsets me as Prime," Optimus stated, a smile twitching his lip plates at the thought of his rose-colored femme.

"Similars attract?" Jorgensen asked thoughtfully, sipping at her coffee.

"Spark mates are equal or they cannot exist. We literally merge our souls, as you understand the concept. One processor, one existence, one life force in our sparks. A dominant or controlling personality would wipe out the lesser," Optimus revealed.

"And we encourage the worst of their behavior," Ratchet half moaned, wiping a yellow green armored hand down his faceplates.

"I disagree," Optimus rumbled, glancing over at the medic.

"So speaks the bot that recharges alone," Ironhide quipped.

"Really? Why do they have different shapes than ours? Not protoforms but the smaller centers above their hip plates, the molded adjustments elsewhere like shoulders or helms when they could be our size and military grade armor?" the medic challenged.

"No bot is the same, we're not factory produced like human toys. What's your point?" Ironhide countered.

"They are shaped to be identifiable instantly as a femme," Ratchet clarified.

"You object to the way Moonracer looks?" Hound asked.

"When I could see her?" he snapped, sounding more tired than irritated. "Moonracer took the night patrol shifts while I take the day, night and in between medical shifts! We didn't have as much time to spark-around, unlike some. And we are not a mated pair or even together. She is pursuing her own way now," he admitted. The hangar was quiet with the medic's admission.

::I thought they were together. What was the problem?:: Ironhide

::Ratchet refused to spark merge fully or even try. Feared making her a target to the Decepticons:: Optimus

::He risks spark break for what might happen? Thought his processor was higher grade than that:: Ironhide

::He lost his first mate to their weapons. We still have ours. It is his and Moonracer's choice to stay a pairing or continue separate:: Optimus sent then closed the comm line, optics focusing back to the medic. "We do not try to control our femmes or give them special treatment."

"Special treatment like giving them your old weapons? And it was you two," Ratchet pinned Optimus and Ironhide with a narrow optic glare. "That pretended to be hurt after the rocket launcher to spend time alone with them. Worse, _a Prime_let a femme fry his foot. Any mech doing that would have been tossed in the brig or had scrap duty for orns." Optimus had a sheepish expression and his optics focused off to the side instead of at his CMO.

"And you Mr.-cannons-to-solve-problems. If any mech hit you, threw you down and swore at you they'd be fragments," Ratchet snapped.

"Slag yes," Ironhide rumbled, flexing his armored arms and attached cannons.

"But if Chromia grabs you, slams you back and throws you down on a recharge berth," Ratchet suggested.

The sudden smirk and audible revving of Ironhide's engine was enough. "Our private time is none of your business," he grumbled, optics not focusing on Ratchet.

"What private time?" Will exclaimed, sputtering into his coffee. "You two have sparked all over base!

Optimus rolled his optics, "They did that on Cybertron too. No place left un-sparked," he grumbled.

"Did you also have to report all alien activities to your superiors? I've kept it out of reports and confiscated tapes to ensure their privacy." Will gestured wildly as his voice rose.

"Where are the tapes?" Epps asked then stepped back at the warning growl. "Just making sure they are secure Ironhide."

_272. When a human asks, how did you know what you know what you wanted to be when you grew up? Do not answer:_

_a. Weapons specialist blow up what irritates them. * roll cannons * Any more questions? _

_b. Hey 'bro? We grown up? *shakes head negative* Come back and ask in about a thousand orns. _*Skids and Mudflap

_c. Medics trank or stasis lock what irritates them. Gotten a good rest lately?_

_d. Snipers have the least injury rate of all field positions and you can practice without anybot knowing. Your targets are gone if you are good and if you miss and hit a fuel storage tank by accident or flatten a tire on an army jeep no other bot knows it was you. We deal with our problems long range and can disappear out of battle while finding cover and no one knows where you are or what you are doing. _*Bluestreak

_e. I love things neat and orderly and helpings others by making rules to follow is satisfying. Second in Command was a natural with my strengths in tactics_. *Prowl

_f. I spent more time exploring my surroundings outside than inside and up top on Cybertron's surface than underground. _*Hound

_g. I find what others do fascinating but when I have completely taken it apart, understand every bit and processor, it becomes boring and I look for new and exciting. A scout sees it all but a spy is not seen. I prefer existence on my terms. *Mirage_

_237. We protect humans as we can, knowing their fragile nature and choices can undo all our planning in an astro second, leaving us to grieve longer than their culture has existed. _

"Sam, do not move," Optimus regal baritone warned.

The boy struggled, hearing the words distantly in a darkness that felt like drifting. 'Why is Optimus telling me to remain still? He always tells me to run. They all do,' he thought. He opened his eyes to Ratchet and Optimus standing nearby and Mikeala sitting on the edge of the bed he was lying on. Blinking, he focused on the strange high ceiling.

"What happened?"

"Car accident," Ratchet answered, his optics spinning in medical scans.

"Bee! Is he?" he panicked, trying to sit up as he fumbled, his body not responding.

"Bumblebee was not involved," Optimus rumbled, leaning down into his sight. "You were struck by an earth vehicle crossing the road not far from your college dorm two days ago. Leo called us on your cell phone immediately and we had you transferred here to Diego Garcia."

"How bad?" Sam asked groggily.

"Double concussion, bruises and a broken ankle. You were lucky Sam, the car only clipped you."

"Was anyone else involved?" He asked, the memory of laughter and voices around him.

"Yes, two fatalities and four other humans with injuries," Ratchet stated, leaning in on the other side. "The driver of the vehicle was intoxicated and hit your group before continuing on and slamming into the side of a building. The driver was offlined."

"It was no one you knew Sam. Prowl checked against the local police database. The man was known for driving drunk. The students were a sports team visiting and one girl from your school but different dorm. Your name was not mentioned in the reports," Mikeala explained quietly, holding his hands in hers. "We kept you sleeping with pain medication while transporting. Dork, cannot even cross a street alone the day after finals. Before finals, you could use the excuse of studying all night for not paying attention, skipping food and sleep. But after? Seriously Sam."

"Bee?" he tilted his head up, trying to see past Optimus. He felt the pulse that was the scout in his head. A familiar whistle and the yellow mech moved into view.

"Busted ankle means no walking. Good thing you have alt modes. Driving down the aisle to get married or walking on crutches is fine by me Sam. Even carried by him and me by Arcee would be cool," Mikeala grinned. "He is your car."

"No, he's not." Sam stated. Bumblebee seemed to sink on his chassis, optics rolling down. "He's my best friend, who looks like a car and…" he stopped as yellow armored metal fingers covered his body, lightly squeezing in an all over hug. Blue optics, suspiciously moist blinked rapidly at him. "Love you too 'Bee." He licked his lips, feeling drained. "Tired."

"Rest Sam, we are here to guard," Optimus instructed.

Bumblebee vented, the tension easing his cables and power systems. ::I feel guilty not protecting him. I offered to drive him and he refused. I leave for a systems upgrade with Ratchet and he is hurt:: Bumblebee

"We can assign him other guardians when you are not available but no amount of watching can protect the ones we love. They must have the right to live their lives. However hard it is to endure," Optimus stated, his optics drifting to the side.

::Like being a mech creator?:: Bumblebee sent.

Optimus chuckled, knowing he had been caught in his own words. "Yes, it is hard to watch and not hover over Elita. Tomorrow I will hold my sparkling in my arms and face a future where my decisions influence him." He vented hard. "Primus, how many responsibilities can I handle?"

::I would like to see several sparklings:: Bumblebee

Optimus lip plates twitched. "Sounds like a plan. I'm sure we can find you a femme to have a batch of sparklings with."

::ME!:: the young mech sputtered, bursts of static emitting from his mouth speaker.

"With the Allspark gone we all must do our part. Sacrifices will be required and no mech or femme can receive special treatment, even young scouts," he stated in his best commanding tone.

::Could I really? Find a femme?:: Bumblebee asked, his tone almost quavering as his optics focused on Optimus.

"Finding is easy. Keeping them happy and with you is another matter. Speaking of which, I need to check on Elita. She is debriefing the new femmes. Shall I ask her opinion on a potential mate for you?" he teased. The high speed whirring of the other's cooling fans was enough of an answer.

_**Story Arc – Hidden within a Spark (pt 5)**_

"Major Lennox, all arrivals accounted for and functional," Optimus informed him as Silverbolt flew supersonic back to Diego Garcia. The cargo hold was crowded with the variety of alt modes and the new arrivals, awkwardly sitting or leaning amongst the others. Only three had Cybertronian alt modes and they would assume new earth alt modes once Ratchet cleared them for Trans scan and active duty.

"Understood Autobot leader. Please switch to encoded channel niner one niner for mission brief," Lennox said.

"Yes Major?"

"How bad are they?" The human sighed.

"New femme mini bot medic, designation Rone is equal to Ratchet but no battlefield experience. Two warrior femmes from Elita's old team, Gliese and her femme parental unit Antares. Femme researcher Flipside, battlefield trained but I would prefer to keep her out of action."

"And the bad news?" Lennox asked.

"Why would you ask that?"

"I know you Optimus. You always start with the good, then the bad then more good. So what's the middle part?"

The ancient leader chuckled at the Major's apt description of his technique. "Femme warrior Override is going to be a challenge."

"Challenge as in?"

Challenge as in the twins and their attitude including pranks and disobeying rules," he admitted.

"Ohh."

"Two mini mechs, one an engineer as well as a warrior. Designations Huffer and Windcharger. Last is our resident spy, designation Mirage. Are you ready to test your new cross cultural training courses?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"I could let them loose in the middle of a city during a Decepticon attack," he teased in reminder of Mission City.

"Only if I get advance notice and forms in triplicate first. New government rules," he joked back, knowing Optimus dislike of human procedures.

"Understood. ETA one hour, Optimus clear."

**Diego Garcia Autobot Med Bay**

**Four hours later**

Paradron medic Rone watched Ratchet replace the last detection unit in its designated drawer, muttering about new arrivals and old problems.

"As one medic to another, I recognize a spark that is suffering and alone," Rone stated. She leaned against the nearest medical berth, hands folded together to keep any movement from betraying her nervousness. He was a senior medic and armed. Three hours of watching him check the other new arrivals taught her as many new phrases as ways to throw wrenches.

"Not suffering as irritated. I admit Ironhide struck a neural connection earlier. I have been without a companion most of my existence. My first and only designated bond mate was offlined before we could complete the ceremony. Then I met Moonracer. We have sparked but not achieved a full spark merge," he admitted.

"Do you want her as a mate? Are you afraid to commit yourself?"

"After eons of war nothing makes me afraid, not even offlining," Ratchet snorted, his optics not meeting hers. He felt and knew his pain even as his stubborn instinct rose to challenge her possible help. "I have seen more offlining than I can record. This war continues beyond all reason by a mech mad enough to destroy our races existence. And you wonder why I have no mate or sparkling of my own? A little life to hold and cherish? To be its guardian and watch it every moment when not in medbay or battle?" His optics and faceplates softened before hardening into his professional medic look. "It would be a mistake to involve a mate or sparkling in my life."

"If we do not make mistakes, we never learn how to make them right. Healing our wounds is better than a life without excitement, adventure or learning. Who heals a wounded healer?" Rone asked.

"This healer is fine. It's running from battle to battle that wears us down. You will learn quick enough once Ironhide assigns you weapons and the first panic call for our aid goes out," he warned.

"I've been in one battle, more massacre. We were unarmed. I was bringing equipment," she shuddered, shuttering her optics. He approached slowly, wrapping his arms around her, countering her weight as she mourned.

::Arcee, can you come to med bay? Amiodarone needs comforting; I would prefer a femme and a bot with medical training as this point. I need to see to Elita then work with Wheeljack on the sparkling shell:: Ratchet

::On my way:: Arcee

_To be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6 Prime's sparkling

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. A new sparkling arrives and an old hurt flares to life. Thanks to fantasyaddict101 for more tag lines. Flower reference thanks to ladyofdarkstar and thanks to all suggestions and information from readers and friends. Never know what will appear where. Warning: Story arc is intense and serious.

Story Concepts: Although Transformer memories and personalities are generally treated as if they are stored within the Transformers' computer "brains" or processor and memory cores, repeated canonical instances have established that a spark will (or can) hold all of an individual's memories, along with their "essence" or personality. Disruptions or interferences between the spark and the shell programming can be dangerous to downright disastrous. Like a stubborn medic resisting his need to be half of a whole merge. I researched this under "spark" on tf wiki.

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_249.__ Do not use human phrases in our official correspondence and do not encourage the use of our language or customs in theirs. _* Amended 02/02/2010 to change the solo word_ "official" to _add _official, personal or any other type of correspondence. _

"I thought I told you not to use those tag lines," Major Will Lennox reminded his Master Sergeant. They stood on the communications platform, readying for their day as the sun rose outside over the ocean.

"Gmail man. This is my private account," the black officer grinned back at him, pointing at the blue bar top of his laptop screen.

"That's worse! Do the words confidential, restricted and classified mean anything to you?"He faced him as a command officer, hands on his hips and eyes narrowed.

"Yah, they're hard to spell. And whom would I send an e-mail to? You, Sarah and Annabelle or the other military officers? Or my sister and she is family and all I have. Sides, she has met the Transformers and thinks they are the hottest machines on the planets. You do not want to know what she calls them! And I thought it was bad when she was into cops and their uniforms. What? You think I'm going to send a personal email to kitchens clutter or quilt of the month club?" He countered.

"Good point. Why the grin?"

"What grin?" The man tried to compose his face and look innocent.

"The one matching the time you covered Ironhide in maple syrup and pancakes then told Ratchet he was cooking them for Annabelle and Sam. Poor guy pulled out of recharge to a screaming medic and sticky goo and food all across his hood."

"His hood folds up in the center for his transform! How was I to know the syrup would slide off his armor and down into his joints instead of sticking?" Epps argued.

"Because it's your job to know these things," Lennox reminded. "And you didn't answer my question."

"I added more tag lines."

"Show me," he grimaced, watching his friend open the file.

_Until Prime learns to tippy toe around_

_Until fate calls upon me when I want it to _

When Hound returns from even one patrol without wearing mud

Until Starscream actually stays and fights

Until Optimus rips off another face, (wait, that may be too soon)

Until Prowl makes a rule about this (oh, he did?)

Until Prowl notices that I'm breaking this rule

Will snapped his fingers, and leaned forward typing. "I have a good one."

_Until my Sergeant gets released from the brig. Look over your shoulder. _

"What type of tag line is that?" he sputtered then heard hydraulics creak and hiss behind him. Biting his lip, he leaned back, way back to see Prowl and Ironhide's bright blue optics staring down. "How long?"

"The entire time," Ironhide rumbled, leaning closer with no expression on his faceplates. "Do you know human, how long it took me to get that sucrose gel out of my joints?"

::About two astro seconds. We flash froze your joints allowing the substance to crack off with the first movement:: Prowl sent, optics sliding his direction for a second.

::Hush. I want to scare him to never do it again:: Ironhide sent back, externally ignoring the black and white armored officer. Epps leaned back the other way, sliding the chair against the far rail and away from Ironhide.

::Never prank you again?:: Prowl

::Mention us in his e-mail taglines. We deserve more respect than that:: Ironhide sent then snapped up at the sounds of distant human screaming. Skids and Mudflap rolled into the hangar, transforming and high fiving armored fists.

"Best prank ever!" They danced, wiggling their optics at each other then froze at Ironhide's warning growl.

"You can explain while you help me escort Epps to the brig," Prowl stated. "What you have done will determine if you visit him or stay the duration."

Will watched them leave, snickering at the protests his friend was making. 'They will let Epps sit in the brig for one hour then hand him a copy of our treaty rules, the giant size edition of Prowl's rules and listen to another lecture about confidentiality without any official record being made per Optimus' orders.' He thought then added one last tagline.

"_Until I have the patience and understanding that Optimus has in dealing with both our races."_

_250. Do not change a fellow Autobot's basic systems including their vocalizer._ *Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, who else?

Swoop glided in over the coral lagoon, his golden wings outspread to equal out the anti gravity rays keeping his metal frame aloft. Diving, he back winged precisely to the sand, barely stirring it up. The Dinobot stretched, filing a report about no more falling flowers. Mysteriously, batches of lilies and carnations had appeared in the very sky to float down to the ground in random events. The twins swore it was not them, the military was concerned it was a test for weapons placement and Wheeljack had secluded himself in his lab after examining the first batch and muttering about random vectors and unforeseen power fluctuations. The Dinobot neither understood nor cared, content to soar the ocean sky to look for more appearances while he and the others visited Diego Garcia. Clicking contentedly, he transformed to his bi pedal mode. "Love this world."

"Me need help," Annabelle's voice called out softly. Swoop hesitated, not wanting to scare the little girl. Why they all moved carefully around humans, he feared her Autobot guardian. He approached slowly, carefully placing his talon clawed pads as his optics searched the low-level bushes by the sand dune.

"Here," she said, the noise from behind a large palm tree. Swoop stopped, craning his head to each side. Grimlock's distinctive red and yellow armor extended on either side of the tree.

'Me Swoop no understand,' he processed. 'If Grimlock leader here, why little girl need help?'

The lead Dinobot stepped out and opened his massive metal jaw to reveal it was empty. "Here help," her voice came from deep within the Dinobot's chest.

"You eat her! Ironhide offline us all!" The smaller Dinobot screamed, transforming back into his Dinobot pterodactyl mode, jumping for higher air when Grimlock grabbed his feet in his massive jaw, slamming him down.

"Me no eat her!" Annabelle's voice yelled from his body again, the red optics glaring down at the other mech. "Me sound like her!"

"Ahh…..twins bad?" Swoop guessed.

"Very bad," the high-pitched voice answered. "Touched singing coconut. Not that funny," it growled as the other mech fell over backwards, laughing and flapping his wing tips. Optics narrowing, he hit the metal coconut with his long flexible tail right at Swoop. The flash as it touched the Dinobot was the only warning.

Twenty minutes later Swoop, in his bi pedal mode approached Ratchet. "You come now," he ordered, in Ironhide's deep toned voice.

"Or what?" the medic challenged, sliding a wrench out and turning to blink at Swoop.

"You come," he ordered again, flapping his wing tips.

"If your vocalizer needs fixing, I need you in med bay and don't shake your head at me. I am Chief Medical Officer around here and you will listen to me or get a wrench shaped dent then I will still do what I want."

::ALERT! Dinobot on rampage, last seen dragging a screaming Ratchet towards the beach:: Red Alert sent across the all call frequency with the pair disappearing off his security cameras.

::Which beach? Diego Garcia is an island. Whole thing is covered with beaches!:: Ironhide

::Follow the trail of stepped on, flattened, bent wrenches:: Hound

::Lagoon beach! First slagger who rescues me gets out of next month's physicals!:: Ratchet sent frantically.

::We take on the Dinobots we need that physical to find all our parts. They do not take 'no' for an answer which obviously they did not if they kidnapped Ratchet and do we really have to rescue him? I mean so quickly they won't hurt him and he might mellow if he sees how much they yell and scream like him only with the wrenches:: Bluestreak

::On my way. Probably a minor malfunction:: Wheeljack overrode Bluestreak's signal, being the mech to upgrade and maintain their internal comm system in the first place and knew exactly how to shut the blue bot's comm signals down.

::I will minor your malfunction 'Jack! The Dinobots were your crazy idea and…hold on:: Ratchet sent the closed the comm line.

::Find the twins before I do :: Ratchet sent with Arcee's higher pitched voice.

::Arcee?:: Hound

::Not one slagging word! : Ratchet with Arcee's tone.

::Watch your language femme! Ow! That wrench hurt. Still should watch your language:: Ironhide grumbled. ::What do I want with a metal coconut?::

Prowl transformed, approaching in full stealth mode towards the red and yellow mech shapes crouching and laughing by the beach path. The remote control unit they held displayed a skewed picture of the beach scene.

"Told you the hidden camera in the coconut was brilliant! See who is tagged," Sunstreaker crowed.

"Both of you, report to the brig. You know the way," Prowl's voice sounded.

"Wow Sides! You sounded just like him," Sunstreaker commended. His brother's optics were wide and spinning fast. "That wasn't you was it?" His twin shook his head slowly side to side. "Ah pit."

"Why can't you go after the Decepticons with your pranks once in a while?" The second in command asked.

"We can work on that," Sideswipe mumbled, shaking off sand as he rose and began walking towards the brig.

_**Story Arc: Hidden within a spark (part 6)**_

::Optimus, I need you in your quarters quick as you can get here:: Ratchet ordered over their internal comm line.

::Why? I am in the middle of a multinational conference call that took months to coordinate:: Optimus

::Elita's sparkling essence is ready now. Wheeljack is here with the shell but she is refusing to let us touch her until you arrive and we dare not move her. They cannot wait much longer:: Ratchet

::NOW? IT IS COMING NOW?:: Optimus sent before recovering. ::You said tomorrow and even scheduled the exact time in med bay::

::Life has its own schedule:: Ratchet closed the line, calculating how long until heavy treads thudded in the outer hallway. Inside the private quarters, the rose-colored femme sat on the recharge berth with her back against the wall. Her chest panels were open and the restraining field fluctuated around her spark spires and the brilliant mini spark.

"Now Elita, be reasonable," Wheeljack murmured, his cooling fans whirring frantically as the huge black muzzle pointed at his mid plates.

"When Optimus arrives," she growled, her optics near red. Her rifle, Prime's former one was in her hand.

::Back away slowly 'Jack. Her protective protocols are activating:: Ratchet sent without moving from his position by the far door.

::The sparkling has to be moved:: Wheeljack

::It will be. You move back before I need to scrape you off the floor:: Ratchet warned then vented softly, feeling and hearing Prime's approach. Both mechs turned sideways, flattening as their bulky chassis would allow as a large blue and red blur rushed into the room. The medic's optics shuttered from the air venting through Prime's systems.

Optimus chirped and clicked in the ancient language of the Primes faster than either mech could follow. Elita nodded, lowering her rifle and returning into subspace. He leaned forward to comfort her when it happened.

SNIZT!

"Ratchet!" Optimus froze, his optics wide as they could go as he swung around, his hands held together and shaking. The medic grabbed the shell from Wheeljack and slid the open chest compartment under the huge silver armored hands. "Tilt your hands and release the sparkling essence. Gently now."

The tiny light fell through the small gap, settling softly into the open space. It pulsed once, twice then steadied as it adapted to the circular shape. Optimus flexed his hands, tingling from its energy echo. "Cannot wait little one?" He chuckled as the mini plates closed, humming with surging power. Elita leaned forward, her chest plates closing as her optics focused on their new sparkling.

"Already a Prime. Doing the unexpected. Definitely your son Orion," she spoke softly into his audio. He leaned his helm her direction, gently sliding it against hers in a caress.

Ratchet handed her the dark grey mech sparkling, his tiny optics opening for the first time. Both parents leaned in close, their sparks surging with happiness as he recognized them. Wheeljack moved slowly towards the main door, waiting for the medic's diagnosis.

::Fully functional and normal. Let's give them privacy to enjoy this moment:: Ratchet winked an optic, following the civilian scientist into the hallway.

His sidebars flashed bright blue with happiness as he pretended to clutch his chest plates. "About cracked a spire there," Wheeljack joked. "You never even vented or raised your cooling systems a notch."

The medic stood there, his optics spinning slower. "I could almost feel the bond Prime and Elita have. The sparkling is their love and so was Ironhide and Chromia's. Delivering two sparklings is straining," he placed one hand above his chest plates.

"What an entrance, dropping into Prime's hands. I was lying down to recharge when you yelled. Up all night with making the shell and all. Ratch? Are you listening?" He asked, shades of pink shifting to orange in his sidebars as his concern grew.

The medic's optics nearly stopped spinning, his feet pads flattening against the floor. His yellow green chassis went still, the sounds of his systems fading out. Ratchet began falling forward, folding at his knee plates and hips as Wheeljack sprung for him, grabbing and catching.

::Ironhide! Emergency! Ratchet is in stasis:: Wheeljack sent then gasped as two black armored hands swung around his, bracing the medic upright effortlessly.

"Get clear," the ancient warrior ordered, holding while the smaller bot slid out and under his reach before swinging the medic into his arms and jogging for med bay.

::EMERGENCY OVERRIDE ALPHA NINE TWO SIX ENGAGED:: Ironhide sent.

"What is override A926?" Wheeljack asked, barely to keep up with his long strides.

"Medical command transfer to the next two medically advanced trained bots and orders to get them to med bay immediately. Ratchet's set it up should this happen," he explained, hauling at a full out run, dodging startled humans and their vehicles as he cradled the medic's frame against his chestplates.

"What is happening?"

"The beginnings of spark fragmentation . Slagger is fighting a losing battle. His spark encoding wants Moonracer but his processors are fighting his pain and need. Won't ask for help or reach out to any bot who can help," Ironhide ground out, pushing through the med bay doors.

Rone and First Aid grabbed Ratchet and slung his yellowed green chassis onto the medical berth, opening his chest panels forcibly.

"He knew enough to ask you for help," Wheeljack tried to ease his fears.

"I hacked his personnel emergency files. That override was meant for him and him alone to use," the weapons specialist said calmly.

"You what? Why?"

"He's my friend. Ain't got too many of them left. Need to keep the ones I like," Ironhide shrugged, his cannons silent as he frowned, reading the life scan readings from the medical berth.

"How did you get there so fast? I mean your quarters are in the next hallway but..."

"The ancient Primes called me before you did. Told me to get to that hallway to save Sam and Annabelle," he vented hard, shuttering his optics close.

"You saved Ratchet," Wheeljack's bars blinked rapidly in confusion.

"I know and that worries me. He will be the one to save them later. Why won't I?"

_To be continued..._

_NEXT: A new life, a new pair and a new set of headaches when the twins meet Override._


	7. Chapter 7 Ratchet's misery and Mrs

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. I read and reread the reviews for encouragement, ideas and remember what people like or don't. Had writer's mix this week. Writer's block is no ideas. Writer's mix is too many ideas and none of them fit any pattern or theme and are vague sentences or pieces here and there.

Paradron medics are canon and not made up. There is even an action figure! Okay, a repaint of the pink and white Arcee but it she is called a _Paradron medic_, with green and white armor coloring and you can find them from time to time on e-bay under 'Transformer Paradron medic.'

Thanks to all my friends and faithful reviewers (you know who you are and how much I treasure your friendships or should) and a special thanks to ladyofdarkstar for her beta of the Ratchet and Moonracer scene and comments on Elita. Onward to loving and all the entanglements that come with that emotion.

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Prowl began sorting the reports to update his records. His office was quiet, soundproofed from outside sounds even as every response system remained on alert for trouble. "Time for a rule on excuses to not use when speeding, no wait. There are no excuses, only explanations and confessions of the crime. Let's see what I have heard already," he began typing on his datapad.

_Rule #227 When caught speeding do not use the following excuses: _

_a. My gas pedal stuck and I am waiting a replacement part. _

_b. My electronic gas pedal sensor is malfunctioning._

"I should add, _Ratchet will take care of you and this excuse personally_. Bumblebee tried that one and only Sam being in med bay himself kept the young scout from stasis and a complete going over of his chassis by Ratchet. Never thought he would use his rank as human Prime to demand Bumblebee stay by his side continually. When will they learn the only thing worse than avoiding repairs is implying our Chief Medical Officer doesn't do a good enough job in maintaining and repairing us?" the Second In Command reflected.

_c. It was a dare. _

"Has this ever worked for any problem? Hmm, maybe I can request banning the phrase alongside "we have a situation?" He made a memory core note to bring it up at the next officers meeting.

_d. Ironhide was chasing me. _

"What did you do to upset him? And why are you telling me and not seeing Ratchet for your injuries?"

_e. Ratchet was chasing me. _

The black and white armored mech snorted, understanding the reason behind that one. "Do not avoid medical appointments, even Prime and I are stuck with them unless reason _d._and Ironhide caught you. Then you are not functional enough to outrun a hummer alt mode and wrenches.

_f. Elita was chasing me. _

"Works only for Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus. Optimus when he and Elita get enthusiastic or want to escape to a more private area and Ultra Magnus to escape her temper. Elita needs to find a better way to challenge his combat skills than using him as her personal punching bot," Prowl muttered. "Her rank as femme commander is no excuse to break the rules nor to irritate him to breaking a processor core over minor details. I will never understand the attraction femmes have. One astro second they are loving and leaning against you, the next you and the other mechs are ducking their rifle blasts. My main personal encounter was interrogation as a prisoner by one," he shuddered internally, refusing to play that memory file. "Next entry."

_g. The twins were chasing me and I was trying to avoid a prank from them. _

"Approved reason but do not overuse," he ran a data search and surprisingly noted a decrease in pranks. He vented, closing his optics to run complicated programs he alone as master tactician could with his logic processor. "Pranks will increase with a direct correlation to new Autobot personnel. In other words, Override is going to target every mini bot and Sunstreaker and Sideswipe will willingly help. Then again, they will not repeat pranks. Arcee will stop complaining about the lack of pink armor paint for repairs."

_h. My last planet assignment was a heavy gravity world and I am use to counteracting that gravity. _

"Huffer, I am not even going to provide an answer to that one."

_i. It was downhill. _

"Cliffjumper, Diego Garcia is a flat island. Only you would try to use that one."

_j. Annabelle was driving._

Prowl formed a frown on his faceplates. "I have not talked with her for several weeks. As a human Prime, I need to maintain a formal working relationship with her but I draw the line at playing 'house.' Perhaps a tea party?" He made a memory core notation to secure cookies, kool aid, and time to spend with her.

_k. I'm built for speed and do what I'm made for._

"Please do not let Override learn this one. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker keep this as a favorite."

_l. My speedometer is still set to Cybertron numbers._

"I know Skids and Mudflap have learned the basics of reading and writing and we never gauged our speeds on Cybertron as a rule. Our slowest there is beyond the fastest here and we hovered, not had wheels," Prowl recited aloud to the empty office, more a reminder to himself of his previous life there.

_m. I pulled a prank and he / she is going to offline me if they catch me._

"As Second in Command it is my duty and honor to protect and ensure your safety and nowhere is safer than the Autobot brig. I will personally escort you there to ward off unwanted attacks. Moreover, I need to know the prank and on which bot to keep them away from you. Or shall I call Ratchet and find a large pile of empty parts buckets?"

_240. Do not engage in dangerous, unsafe or reckless activities without medical support or rescue vehicles nearby for battle conditions and approved official drills only. Pranks, racing and everyday activities are not included in this list. _

Major Will Lennox watched the cars and red motorcycle slide to a stop, brakes squealing and tires smoking, or at least that is how it appeared. He knew the complicated advanced technology required for their speeds and mass to dump that much inertia in a short distance.

They transformed, ignoring him to argue on who crossed the imaginary finish line first. Sunstreaker stood back, letting Sideswipe yell faceplate to faceplate with Override. Will sighed, watching the blue ocean waves lapping at the edge of the nearby beach. The afternoon breeze ruffled the palm trees, including the one being cut from around Huffer. His impact had literally bent the tree around his orange armor. 'A mini bot with a top heavy alt mode should know better. The twins will never learn and Override is worse,' Lennox thought. He put both fingers to his mouth, inhaling and whistling loud enough to hurt their sensitive audios.

"Racing is allowed on Friday nights with designated referees and medical on standby. This is Wednesday afternoon and look at the damage you caused! Cliffjumper spun out first lap, embedding hood first in sand and you nearly ran over Sam on his crutches. What were you using for processors? Do you want to offline yourselves or have us do it for you!" the human Major yelled.

"Blades was monitoring for medical," Override pointed upwards, her blue optics focusing on the red and white descending helicopter alt mode. His bright colors nearly matched the paint design she had chosen for her racing alt motorcycle.

"That is not an excuse for you to peel rubber across this base," he said.

"Our tires are not rubber and he is not an excuse but a capable warrior mech, even if he is a bit arrogant," she corrected. The chirp chirp of his helicopter blades drowned out any further words as he landed. His darkened cockpit faced the racers.

"I am a rescue copter, approved by Autobot command, Prime, Chief Medical Officer Ratchet and I have a certified trained watcher assisting me," he intoned solemnly.

"Who? I see no other bots but these speed maniacs and Mirage is with Jazz and Wheeljack in the lab, so no invisible bots," Will pointed all directions. The twins exchanged a look, not sure who Blades meant. Override turned her back on all of them, removing a piece of broken cement barrier from her side exhaust piping.

Blade's left cockpit door opened and they blinked their optics in surprise. They should have noticed his cockpit windows were dark tinted and he flew slowly and rather normal for a being his size instead of his usual 'upside down on the side no helicopter from earth could pull those G turns and maneuvers without crashing spectacular how did he do that' moves.

"CLICK CLICK SNICK daddy," Annabelle hopped down on to the ground, dressed in a miniature red Coast Guard style jumpsuit complete with black stripes and child size life jacket. Her half visor flying helmet had the familiar Autobot logo and extended radio mouthpiece for her ease of use.

"Annabelle, please stick to English. I have a headache enough without trying to translate Cybertronian," Will asked, rubbing at his forehead.

The little girl shrugged, pulling off her helmet to release her blond hair braid down her back. "I said did you see how well I landed? Blades is helping me to fly so when I turn fifteen I can get my real pilot's license."

"Fifteen? Really that soon?" he echoed, resisting the urge to grab the nearest cell phone or communicator and yell for Ironhide to grab his daughter and permanently lock her inside his interior for safety.

Transforming, Blades Coast Guard helicopter shape rotated and shifted into his tall bi pedal mech mode. "Your daughter is accomplished with her aerodynamic skills and keen optics visualization. Her time racing with the twins heightened her physical response coordination. Only natural we encourage its development and she was more secure with me than the racers."

"No rule prohibiting young stuff from flying and watching," Sunstreaker added, optics flickering to the others.

"I would have been safe," Override countered, tossing another concrete piece out of her armor tubing.

"With that upside down jump over Cliffjumper?" sideswipe quizzed, pantomiming the spinning in the air motion.

"Hmm, can we say laser restraints sword boy? I could flip, roll and slide and she would not have come off," the femme countered. "I'm the best."

Annabelle shook her head side to side, tugging on her dad's sleeve. Once he bent down, she whispered, "Override's worse than Arcee. Ironhide would be madded if I went with her."

"It's mad or madder sweetie and we will talk about this later ok?" he whispered back.

"Talk like did you have a good day or talk like mommy is mad at you for not watching me and I went racing so keep it a secret again type talk?" she asked. The human father sputtered as the Autobots chuckled, their sensitive alien hearing detecting every whispered word.

"May I assist?" A tenor mechanical voice spoke out of the air before shimmering into the regal form of Mirage. He knelt, opening his silver blue hand. "Ironhide requested I locate her. I will escort her safely back to his quarters and relinquish Annabelle under Chromia's watchful optic. Ram should be approaching his afternoon recharge and she has earned her rest."

"I'm too old to nap," Annabelle stated, crossing her arms and pouting.

"Not you to recharge little one," Mirage corrected. "To assist in watching Ram enabling Chromia to recharge if the gentle femme requires it."

"Oh, okay then. I like Chromia. She is almost as good as Ironhide at blasting stuff! Beats my score on the targets every time," the little girl cheered while rising in the air and carried out of her father's hearing range.

"I need a rest," Will muttered then faced them. "What just happened didn't. It does not go beyond this moment, this base or this time. Got it?"

"Yes sir!" Sunstreaker snapped a military style salute with various sounds of agreements coming from the others.

"Ever get the feeling that little girl is smarter than she appears?" Sideswipe asked.

"Know a Prime that isn't crafty and more than they appear?" Override commented, watching Will walk away. "Think we should offer him a ride back?"

_**Story Arc: Hidden within a spark (part 7)**_

_DANGER! DANGER ! _Flashed across Ratchet's combat systems. He struggled, calling his weapons from subspace. Nothing happened and he vented hard, desperate to protect then realized there was only silence. 'No sounds?' he processed slowly, then shouted to hear nothing. Systems diagnosis failed to respond to his demands. 'Where am I?'

_ARMED CYBERTRONIAN PRESENCE CONFIRMED. PROXIMITY IN COMBAT RANGE! _Flashed across his systems again to his frustration. "What the slag am I to do? I can't see them, I can't hear them and wait….can't see?' he processed, realizing it was not darkness but a total lack of vision. 'No light, no thermal imaging, no radar, on any frequencies, not even a thermal ripple. Attacked? Am I down? Then others need me,' he struggled against the invisible bonds that held him.

_SAFETIES ENGAGED, UNABLE TO REVERSE_

"Why?"

_EMERGENCY OVERRIDE ALPHA NINE TWO SIX ENGAGED_

"Oh no," he groaned, covering his faceplates with his hands. Or tried to. "%$#($)#* I'm in stasis. That is why no light, no sound. I am never going to live this down. Wait, I do not remember triggering this. How bad am I?'

_Engaged by Ironhide, Chief Weapons Specialist. _

"IRONHIDE!!!!" He roared, finally hearing a scrape and metal creaking sound nearby.

In the room, Rone's optics snapped to Ratchet's life monitors as his signals raised. "He's coming out of stasis!" she yelled, bringing the other bot to his side instantly from the next room. She dove for the far cabinet, slamming the doors open and grabbing a coding enhancer off the top shelf. Four steps back and she rammed it into his leg joint, sliding past the armor and into the fragile protoform below. His prone form twitched as though electrically shocked before settling on the berth.

His signs fluctuated wildly before steadily rising.

'That hurt!' he processed, fighting his way up to signal awareness. 'First Aid is going to be a cleaner bot when I'm through. Whoa, I feel funny. Too fast like I'm racing.'

Rone scanned him intently, even as his readings soared. "It's working, full awareness shortly. He might be fidgety, side effect of the enhancement. Stay with him, force him through if necessary but get him to focus on anything but his own condition. "

"You're leaving?" Moonracer faced her.

"You don't need me and he needs you whether he admits it or not. On Paradron, you would be locked together until you made peace. No medic allows a patient to suffer needlessly and not for this long!" she fumed, showing a rare display of anger. "I'm giving you four joors to fix this. If he goes under again, call me instantly and we will transfer you both to med bay," Rone stated firmly and closed the door to the recharge area then left, sealing the main quarter's door.

Ratchet groaned, rolling his head side to side as his optics opened and blazed with color. "White clouds, blue sky?" he muttered, before turning to see a deep green painted wall.

"You're in your own quarters, not that you use them much," Moonracer quietly explained.

"The twins, they painted my ceiling and walls to look like nature, I remember," he vented roughly, the uneven sound causing Moonracer to reach a hand out.

"I'm not offline yet," he grumped, sitting up slowly.

"Closer to the well of sparks that you should be," she challenged right back, using both hands to push him down. "The enhancer effects are still building, take it easy."

"Enhancer! Who gave me that? You?" he half yelled.

"Medic Rone did," she pointed to the discarded injector on the nearby stand.

"That's for uh…uhm…that is," he trailed off, his cooling fans kicking higher.

"Stubborn medics who suffer spark degradation rather than complete a mating bond. And you are hurting me," she finished quietly.

"Sorry," he lay back, removing his hands off her arms.

"Not your touch, but the lack of it. My spark is degrading. That is why I left to scout the new site in Oregon. I didn't want the others to know," she pressed her hands above her spark. His multi faceted optics scanned her energy signature, confirming her words.

"You should have said, not suffered alone. I never meant to hurt you or risk you that way," he apologized, feeling ashamed for not recognizing her suffering and worse, he and his stubbornness were causing it. 'Some medic, fail the only femme you want to help,' he processed.

"I love you. Do you find me that lacking?" she asked as he remained quiet.

A thousand things flashed through his processor as he closed his optics in pain. They opened and glazed over with cleaning fluids. "Never. I want you to be happy, not saddled with a cranky old med bot," he grumbled.

"It's not our choice to make, our sparks recognize each other. I'm tired of suffering, can you understand that? We need to make this right. We cannot keep hurting each other, even you can see that," she leaned close to his faceplates to see into the depths of his optics. Her chest hovered over his. He grimaced; feeling his spark pulse then realized his plates were sliding to the sides.

"Uhm, Moonracer?" he stammered out, optics spinning wide. "I'm sorry but about our sparks, right now they are.... "

"What? Do you need oh my Primus!" she gasped, seeing his spark flaring through the widening gap. "I'll take that as a yes!" she cheered, opening her chest plates with internal commands. He reached up, grabbing her onto the berth as he scooted back against the wall.

"If we do this, we do it right," he stated, touching his lip plates against hers.

In the hallway, Rone flipped the mini camera off, too embarrassed to watch. Optimus vented, tilting his helm to the side. "They are completing the merge," was all the Paradron medic said.

Ironhide exchanged an armored hand slap with Wheeljack while Optimus sent a silent prayer of thanks. "Now, clear the hallway. They need peace and quiet."

"Ten credits they get a sparkling soon," Ironhide teased.

"Why?"Optimus quirked an optic ridge upward.

"Your mech and mine will need a femme once they are full frame. And a sharpshooter makes the best kind of femme creator," he said. "Once they choose, nothing blocks them reaching their target and getting the best."

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8 Colors and answers

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews and to you for taking the time to read, laugh and enjoy. The Transforming mini Grimlock and Ravage devices mentioned below are _real_ and are on e-bay or computer technology sites. I do not have them yet but you never know.

Prowl and Annabelle cuteness in these rules. Super thanks to ladyofdarkstar for her beta help and working with the dialogue lines. I have not forgotten previous reader suggestions, still trying to find a way to work them in. Onward to colors, cuteness and things not being what you first thought.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

_229. Do not believe what is "history" unless you were there or have a reliable source. Conquering armies, enemies and time all distort the truth to form the lie. The Allspark contained our _written_history but mechs and femmes are our _living_ history and we should value age and experience. We learn history, they made it by their adventures and sacrifices. _

The main Autobot hangar bustled with humans coming and going during the day shift, most waving or stopping for a quick word with Annabelle as she worked on her datapad. Major Will Lennox and the Autobots kept an amused watch over her, watching as battle hardened soldiers smiled and forgot the harshness of war when she was around.

"Can we keep Annabelle here when school starts? My vote is she needs to stay," Hound stated. The green armored scout stepped to the right allowing the walking human soldier, intently reading the report he carried, to continue in a straight path rather than collide with his leg armor.

"Voting is for important matters," Will reminded, typing another line to his field report. His wife Sarah had pulled the 'let's vote as a family' and he discovered eating macaroni and cheese four nights in a row was a time saver and less dishes but not that delicious. "It resolves important issues and shows a clear intention of our desires."

Ironhide vented roughly, raising his head to bring his optics level with the communication platform level. "So says the race that voted to steal or borrow our technology against your own worded treaty."

"I didn't vote on that nor any soldier here," Will challenged, looking directly into those spinning optics. He knew they scanned down to the molecular level, reading his heart rate, perspiration, and breathing to see the truth or lie his body told. "It was a rogue group that is now cooling their... heels in jail," the man changed his phrasing, glancing over at his seven-year-old daughter. "We vote on weapon budgets, to restrict their use and who should have them."

Annabelle glanced up, smiling. "Autobots vote on weapons too daddy. Their senate council once voted to stop adding weapons and forbid anyone else to build or use them. Alpha Trion lead the team to stop scientists who did like you lead a team," she stated.

Optimus vented hard, scattering papers off the nearby console with the force of the expelled air. He leaned in very close to her, "How do you know that?" his baritone was deep and without a hint of emotion, even as his silver armored hands clenched into fists behind his back and out of her sight.

"My history lesson yesterday, see?" The little girl scrolled the datapad back and turned it around, holding it up for Optimus.

"I see," he stated. His optics dimmed as he talked internally with Ironhide and Hound. They both moved closer as Will began getting nervous. There was intensity to their movements that caused his battle instincts to kick in.

"Can I see that datapad sweetie?" He took it from her, noting how their optics followed it and not Annabelle.

"Sure, I was almost done with the math lesson. I'm hungry," she said, hopping off the office chair.

"Go with Captain Jorgenson and bring me back lunch too please," her father asked quietly. The Irish Captain held out her hand, guiding the girl down the steep metal steps and out the human size door.

"What?" Will asked, setting the datapad down and backing away from it.

"I have heard that explanation before and it is a lie. No Autobot from that time believes that," Optimus practically snarled, his hands curling and uncurling into fists.

"Then who?" Epps asked, his hand unconsciously on his gun in response to the tension.

"A Decepticon," he snarled.

"The council overruled a research team lead by Starscream to redesign our existing personal weapons systems," Ironhide began.

"Officially they were trying to use the parts or systems of a recently offlined bot to add to their own," Hound said but his tone implied the worse.

"Cannibalism?"

"They were experimenting to take parts from functional but injured bots, strengthening themselves from their enemies or even their own fallen in battle. Taking by force, regardless of the additional injuries caused. Megatron led the Decepticons but had not yet announced himself. The moon base attack with Prime Mechner occurred later than vorn," he explained.

Will kept quiet, having no idea who Prime Mechner was. He did recognize the signs of a very angry Prime and any conversation mentioning Starscream and Megatron had his instant attention.

"The council ordered Starscream's immediate surrender when they learned the truth but he had fled. They destroyed his lab and research after rescuing nearly a dozen victims, all kept in stasis but stripped and brutally injured during the procedures, not before. Young fully functional unarmed bots captured for experiments," Optimus explained, his venting rapid and loud.

"No wonder you're mad," Will commented.

"I am enraged they would deceive a little girl," he ground out.

"They are Decepticons. Did you really expect them to tell the truth?" Hound countered.

"I expect them to pick on someone their own size. What is next? Stealing Annabelle's lollypop?" Optimus snapped, his anger surging his battle systems.

"Rule 54. No giving candy to Annabelle Lennox without clearing it with parental units AND Ironhide. You know the rules Prime," Prowl reminded walking in and hearing only the last phrase.

::Bad timing:: Ironhide winced as Optimus spun on his feet pads, his sword dropping out of subspace into his silver armored hand.

Prowl's expression never changed as the glowing yellow energy reflected off his neck plates as it held steady against his metal without slicing. "Who did what now and how long shall I hold them in the brig?"

Optimus optics narrowed before he retracted the sword, returning it to subspace. "Megatron has been 'teaching' Annabelle his version of our history," he said.

The Second in Command's optics dimmed as his logic centers spun out probabilities. "Soundwave. He is capable of hacking our systems to relay false information. I will investigate immediately," his optics roved, spotting the datapad. "Confiscating immediately. How bad is her misinformation?"

"Bad," Optimus vented, striding past him and out the Autobot sized door.

"How did you know he wouldn't attack you?" Hound asked, all of them giving their leader time to calm down.

"He's a Prime and I have served as his second for thousands of years. Only twice has he ever grabbed me. The first time he swung me over his head but held me there until regaining his temper to set me back down without injury," Prowl explained without going into details.

"The second time?" Hound asked.

"He held me in front of him to block Elita. She liked me and would not blast me through to get to him. They were having a disagreement, a very bad disagreement. I stayed until I was reasonably sure they would not offline each other," he rolled his optics up and around.

"You are shorter than Prime, and wouldn't have blocked a spark shot," Ironhide commented thoughtfully, looking at the other's black and white armored form.

"She wasn't aiming at his spark."

Prowl turned away, smirking at the shocked looks of the Autobots around him. He thought back to that moment, to the small crystal holocron that Prime had intended to give his beloved as a surprise, one he did not want blasted to a million pieces by accident.

He should have clarified to the others, he knew, but it was much more fun to let them speculate. Even he had his moments of mischief.

_264. Do not let one misstep overrule your attempts to communicate. Humans are unpredictable yet capable of kindness and caring beyond expectations, given the chance. Reaching them at their level is worth the effort._

Prowl bowed from his waist transform cogs, keeping his upper body still while his clasped hands held the tiny tray. "May I enter gentle femme?" he asked in formal Cybertronian.

Annabelle giggled, her blonde ponytail swinging as she turned to face him directly, bowing the same way. Then she stood straight, smoothing her blue jumpsuit, taking a breath before clicking back her response. "May your spark be bright and your processing smooth and without glitches. Be welcome in my shed."

His lip plates twitched as he entered Ironhide's private quarters then switched to English. "The last word was missing a half nuance consonant. Your word was "shed" as in storage unit and not," he pronounced the same word adding the other half to it. "My home" as in main place of living."

"Slag it!" she swore in middle Cybertronian, scrunching her face up. Her tiny human shape was nearly lost atop the large metal table in the main room. Chromia peered around the corner from the private recharge area, winking an optic at Prowl before disappearing out of view.

:: She is a fast learner:: Chromia teased.

He refused to correct Annabelle for swearing, instead making a note to talk to Ironhide again about his language. ::Her tone even sounds like Ironhide's vocal tones:: Prowl

::When her weapons match his I will worry. Realigning my arm cannon, Ram is with Ironhide for a ride around base. Yell if you need rescuing:: Chromia closed the room door, sealing her in and giving them privacy.

"And I'm Annabelle though I hate being called Anna but Belle is okay but sounds too much like the Disney cartoon and I don't want a rose or a beast but I love my sand castle Wheeljack built and are those peanut butter cookies?" She squealed, forgetting her train of thought.

"I noted your fondness for them," he said, placing the tray of cookies on the mini pink play table set in front of Annabelle. He sat on the Autobot size chair while placing his hand near the play table. An energon cube rested near it. He looked at the energon cube, sensors flashing warnings at its color. "Why is it red?"

"Like my cherry kool aid. I had Wheeljack made it red instead of blue to match but its okay to drink,' she shrugged.

He sampled a drop, holding it in his lower jaw segment as sensors scanned its chemical properties.

_CONFIRMED ANALYSIS. ENERGON WITH COLOR PIGMENTATION. NO RECOGNIZED HAZARDS_

He drained it, missing her giggling as the red color remained on the inner edges of his lip plates. They talked of many things, most Prowl had to research on the internet to understand the basics let alone why it was important to the little girl. He learned secrets about happenings on base even he had missed and realized her tiny size and keen mind made her a perfect spy.

"Are you feeling okay? Your color is not looking good," she finally said, brushing cookie crumbs off her blue jumpsuit before getting up to stand by him. She peered closer, humming as she walked from one table side to the other. He kept his hands on either edge, ready to protect her from a deadly fall if she stumbled.

"My colors do not change. My armor is permanently white and black. You must be mistaken young miss," he stated.

"Uh huh," she shook her head side to side in a no motion then giggled, pointing at his arm. "White hand, black wrist with pretty colored lines. See?"

"ARRRRGGGHHHH!"

His scream brought Chromia out of the recharge area and to his side. "What the?" The femme warrior exclaimed, looking at him helm to foot pad while subspacing her weapon back into hiding. She snickered, unable to help herself, "You look like a prism purged its colors all over your insides. A slagging protoform rainbow! Your lines, the parts and cables. What did you do?"

"Not my fault," Annabelle hastily explained. "I didn't give him anything human or even touch him. And he feels okay in my head." The little girl smiled, "He's pretty. Like a field of wildflowers back home on the farm. I like wild flowers."

Chromia held up the drained energon cube, the sides stained soft pink.

"Its Wheeljack's energon," Prowl groaned, "He changed it to red with a chemical that seems to be interacting with my systems, turning it all colors as it is being processed. My armor is intact but everything else," he hid his helm in his hands.

"Field of wild flowers, I like that," Chromia said. "Prowler the flower bot. You know the worse part?"

"What?" he vented, raising his optics up.

"The twins are going to be disappointed they didn't think of this first," she chuckled.

_251. Do not use technology to play when you should be working, including Transformer based technology with our transform abilities, manual or electronically engaged. And do not allow such technology to be used by humans unless approved by Autobot Command and the treaty. They can destroy a super computer with a screwdriver and good intentions, how much more the danger with Cybertronian gear._

Major Will Lennox smirked, grabbing the computer wireless mouse then stopped, removing his hand. "What is that?" Their approved budget request forgotten as he peered at the varied lines and gaps on the optical device.

"Watch," Epps grinned, picking the wireless mouse shape up. He rotated the two sides out, flipping the center back then began shifting the front.

"That looks like," Will realized.

"Yes he can be taught," Epps quipped as a mini version of Grimlock in his Tyrannosaurs Rex mode stood on the counter top. "See this flash drive? Watch this." Again, the sergeant's deft fingers manipulated parts. "Ravage, his old alt form to be specific."

Why?" his boss asked with a heavy sigh.

"Why? Look at them! Cool gear off e-Bay man. Dinosaur and panther that are computer parts," the Master Sergeant stated as if it should have been obvious.

"Okay, I do not understand," Will admitted, rifling through his hair with his hand.

"What don't you understand?" Epps countered, changing the dinosaur back to the mouse shape.

"All of it. If you spent as much time working on the computer as you do playing around with it you'd be a Major by now."

"Yah right. You think I want your job? All the headaches, dealing with the higher brass, trying to convince them the Autobots are the good guys? I have enough of a time keeping my sister from running away and joining the car shows," Epps said.

"I thought it was run away to join the circus," the British Graham commented, handing them the printed copy of their papers.

"I told you, she's into Autobots now," Epps folded his hands and frowned.

"Could be worse," Graham suggested.

"How?"

"One could have a crush on her. Try explaining that. A human Autobot wedding," he joked.

"I'd be happy if she finds anybody normal, mech included. You know Autobots like us but not that way," Epps reminded.

"The ultimate I do not date outside my species rule," Will laughed.

"Could you imagine the situations they would have to deal with? Summer picnics with relatives, holidays on earth or Cybertron? Explaining how they stay together?"

"Don't even go there. It is all they can do to deal with us and our weird ways now."

_**Story Arc: Hidden within a spark (part 8)**_

"How is Ratchet?" Chromia stopped her mate, pressing both hands above his spark as her optics searched his.

"He accepted Moonracer," he clasped his black armored hands over hers, touching helms with her in a caress. "I was afraid we would lose him to his own stubbornness," he admitted to her what he would never any other being. They stood inside their private quarters, drawing strength from each other.

"About time. I feared she would leave and never return online to us. I've lost too many friends now," the femme mourned.

"I know my love, so have I," Ironhide comforted, shifting to the side to wrap her in a tight hug. "I am here for you, now and always. I promise," he affirmed. His venting hitched, as though parts stumbled internally.

"What?"

"Nothing lover. I want to see our little sparkling and feel you in my arms on the recharge berth," he nuzzled her neck plates, pulling on a sensitive cable. Breems later he drifted into recharge, a recharging Ram nearby in his tiny wall mounted berth and Chromia a solid presence against his back.

Light flared as wind swirled around his feet pads, sending dust swirling. The plain stone was smooth and solid under him but soundless as he walked upon it. Seven tall silver shapes formed out of the air in front of him.

Ironhide faced the ancient Primes, his determination showing in the rigidness of his frame, the set of his faceplates and his rolling cannons. "Why won't I be there to save Sam and Annabelle?" he yelled.

"Events are in motion that require you elsewhere," the thinner Prime answered.

"End as in me being offlined?"he asked, needing to know.

"No," the second Prime stated, the armor slats on his arms rippling in the wind.

"You," the third pointed an extremely long multi jointed finger at the ancient warrior. "Are to guard the adult Autobot Prime. He fails to protect his own existence. You have never failed him."

"I did at the forest battle, he was alone against Megatron and the others," Ironhide admitted, dropping his head in shame.

"Do you think it was by accident he saved the human Prime Samuel James Witwicky and become separated from the rest of you? Yet found by the Decepticons?"

"He knew his path," the fifth Prime intoned.

"He knew he was going to?" Even now, Ironhide's processor and memory cores hurt at the remembrance of Optimus' broken frame, still smoldering as it lay deactivated on the grass.

"Yes, and chose to be a key element in the fate of two worlds, letting Sam make the final choice," the first Prime continued explaining.

"At any time the boy could have abandoned the search or stayed with us, crossing over as was his right following Mission city. Or to find the matrix and endure to return and save Optimus."

Ironhide bowed his head, processing what he was hearing. "Bumblebee?"

"The one you consider as your own sparkling? He too will remain functional and guard another of great importance. Ratchet needs to remember life and the human Primes can best teach him."

"Anything else you care to let me know?"he asked, relieved no one was offlining, only trading who they would guard.

"The femme sparkling essence Chromia now carries is to be named Darkstar. She is destined as an equal and spark mate to Optimus first-born mech. A fire to his spark, reason to his desire for revenge and a hope for all our descendants."

Ironhide's optics spun wide as his mouth plates began to open when light blazed around him.

"YAAAHH!" he screamed, sitting upright on the recharge berth and triggering the lights. Chromia shot up behind him, weapon in hand and stopped, scanning everywhere for what startled him.

"You," he rolled over and pointed, lip plates opening and closing like a fish.

"Hold that process," she growled, subspacing her weapon. Ram continued his agitated clicking from his wall berth.

"It's all right my little Ram, lug head wasn't yelling at you," she cradled the tiny sparkling close before venting softly and clicking back at it. Ram snuggled close, curling both his tiny servo hands around the edges of her fingers.

"Mia? Are you carrying again?"

She lifted an optic arch at him. "I should know if I was with another sparkling."

"Please, for me, check your internal diagnostics. You are carrying a femme essence," he smiled and moved forward to wrap his arms around her and Ram at the same time. "Name her Darkstar. It's what the Primes want."

"If I'm carrying right now, I'll name you Ironius Prime the fighting warrior who is wise and... Uh, did you say Darkstar?"

"Long story but it's going to be okay," he reassured.

"How okay?"

"She's the mate to Optimus and Elita's little mech," he stated as though giving the time and not the future of an essence barely formed.

"What are we to do?"

"Recharge, it's the middle of the night," he stated, guiding her back towards their recharge berth.

_To be continued..._


	9. Chapter 9 Prowl, pairs and challenges

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Thanks to readers for the addicted list suggestions. It was a group effort. If anyone wants to expand a rule into its own fic, please let me know. About a dozen have been. This week has been beyond hectic and I posted when I could.

Congratulations to fantasyaddict101 for her fic "A loss of essence" about Elita losing their first sparkling from the earlier story arc. Beautifully written with emotion and showing the love Elita and Optimus share. For a lighter silly fic read Clifjumpersfangirl "Sideswipe vs hedgehog." Links to both are on my profile plus others.

Credit to ladyofdarkstar for the Ratchet "strength" quote. Current story arc is finishing and a new one beginning. For now, couple mushiness for February and such then return to battles and general life. Next chapter will reveal the sparking name of Optimus and Elita's little mech. So stay tuned. Onward to staying with family and continuing with teammates.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

Major Will Lennox watched his best friend and Master Sergeant pull the silver laptop out of his travel bag and frowned. He moved closer confirming what he was seeing. Reaching out a hand, he tapped the laptop. "Do I even have to say it?"

"Course not man," Epps answered. "I'll order you one. Neat huh? Bright blue and red vinyl, perfect design. I scanned it in and ordered through the online site then a few days later, 8 x 8 inch Autobot logo to place on the top of my laptop. Vinyl is made for cars and will last for years, probably longer than what it is stuck too. And I have a mini one for my flash drive case and wait until you see my id tags."

"I meant why that logo? On base or while on NEST missions maybe but what if a civilian sees it? When traveling between bases or while on personal leave!" he gestured his frustration by waving all directions.

"Like the civilians who saw the broadcast of the Fallen couple years ago? 'To the human hive, we exist and oh yah, a super secret team called NEST saved all your afts yet again," he retorted, plugging the laptop cords in and powering it up. "Sides, turn it this way," he flipped it upside down, "kind of looks like a cat. Stylized lion face if you prefer. And with my looks, military hair cut, and muscles do you think some geeky nerd is going to challenge me over a sticker?"

"Still have that Ravage flash drive I see," Will commented, giving up and sitting down in the empty chair one spot over.

"Yup. And the case I store it in, see?" He held it up, a dog tag dangling from the zipper pull.

The other man leaned closer, blinking at it. "Ironhide's face?"

"Knew you would recognize it. I have Prime on my travel case zipper pull, Ironhide on my files and Ratchet on my cord wraps. What? I have no kids or family except my sister and she hates having her photo taken. This way, I know which gear is mine," Epps pointed at his then the plain sets all over the console counters.

"How did you get this all made without triggering a breach of confidentiality investigation?" Will asked, beginning to work on his own laptop.

"Website that makes any design of your choice, all automated. Scan in the image and they transfer it then mail it out. I got this last week," he pulled out a standard mouse pad, flipping it over to show Bumblebee in both his forms. His yellow and black Camaro alt mode on the right in the background and a fighting bi pedal mech pose on the left, without his battle mask or arm cannon though. "Image is embedded into the material so the mouse optics slides across and the image won't fade, peel or crack like store bought ones. Ordered a set for Sam and Mikeala as a wedding present. "

"They set a date?" Will looked up in surprise.

"Not yet but even if they take forever, classy gear never goes out of style."

_You know you are addicted to Transformers when:_

_46. You call a fellow human an Autobot name by mistake by being tired, distracted or not paying attention. Marcy became Arcee, Jack to Jazz and Henry to Hound for example._

_47. __You see a falling star and first thought is "Decepticon or Autobot inbound?"_

_48. You have assigned a Cybertronian name to your personal vehicle and have used it around the vehicle._

_49. You don't know whether to kiss or hunt down your recruiter who signed you up for the military but you can't tell them anything because the inter galaxy treaty and confidentiality agreement. _

_50. You take loads of advanced computer courses, and search for how-to-programs on the internet not to hack any system but find a clue on how to get back for what the twins did to your computers, again and again._

_51. __You are hungry and started to say "I need some ener..." stumbling over the word energon and switch it to "energy drink or energy bars."_

_52. You are updating your burial wishes and think, "Add a spark and throw me into a Transformer shell please or can I join the others at the well of sparks? I would love to talk to some of the early bots."_

_53. You watch a vehicle roll by itself and wait for it to transform instead of calling the driver an idiot for forgetting to set the brake when they got out and left it running at the store. _

_54. You compare people to Transformers. He is as arrogant as Starscream, that auditor is nasty as Megatron, cute as Bumblebee and she is feisty as Arcee._

_55. You install digital locks, automated timing controllers and verbal command sensors at your home then wish you could install a comm link in your own body. _

_56. You are considering asking / begging / pleading for a subspace puller instead of more money at your next performance review and raise. _

_57. Your kids name a puppy, kitten, turtle, goldfish or other family pet with a Transformer name because they have heard you use it a million times as in Ironhide the tabby cat, Ratchet the goldfish and Soundwave the iguana._

_58. You can list every make and model of the vehicles in your neighborhood but not the neighbor's names. _

_59. If the Transformers ever went public and were made into toys, you would buy the entire collection for yourself and a few for your kids. _

Prowl moved his armored wing doors, marveling in their increasing speed and flexibility. Leaving his office, he stretched all directions checking that the last of the colored energon was truly out of his system. "Ratchet did a sufficient job, hmm, more than sufficient on them. I still have not tried their top speed." He froze them as mech treads echoed in the hallway. He turned, facing the wall and subspacing out a datapad. Sunstreaker turned the corner, paint cans in his yellow armored arms and vented once, spinning and striding back the other direction.

The second in command checked the brig status and made a timer note to verify the twin's whereabouts in seven breems. Striding outside, he returned the datapad to subspace. Sensors detected he was alone, only humans within sensor range. Slowly, Prowl began flexing his armored wing doors, back and forth. Increasing the speed gradually he moved the air and watched a discarded piece of paper float away. "How fast can they go?"

On the main concrete grid pad, the two NEST officers finished the equipment inspection, wiping sweat from their brows and grease from their hands. A whipping sound had them looking around, trying to spot the source of the noise. Moving away from the tanks, they stared at the white and black screaming blur as it zipped by. "Was that?"

"Yup," Epps nodded, wincing at the sounds of crashing palm trees and sand thrown high into the air. "Or the ugliest penguin I've ever seen."

"Penguins don't fly."

"Do they land? Cause he didn't, more crashed," the Master Sergeant said.

"Prank?" Will guessed, pulling out his cell phone and dialing Optimus' private line. "Are you missing Prowl? I think he is on the west beach. Oh, doing an imitation of a beached orca whale right about now. Right down to the distress cries."

_You know you are addicted to humans when:_

_17. Your energon cube has a handle on the side and you sip from it while humans drink their coffee._

_18. You have updated transfer protocols to warm your interior seats in cold weather, add plush floor mats for bare feet in the summer and adapt to the new booster seat for Annabelle now that she is bigger and older. _

_19. You run and hide when the word "shopping" or "groceries" is mentioned by any nearby human.*_Ironhide, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker

_20. You volunteer to go shopping, as human watching is fascinating and you do not mind them filling your trunk with bags. Exception: No Transformer shall ever go Christmas shopping, it is too cruel a punishment per Optimus Prime. _

_21. You have existed for thousands of years and dislike Mondays and look forward to Fridays for no reason you can process. _

_22. You have considered adding a coffee maker function to your interior cab or alt mode transform. _

_23. You cannot explain the inner workings of your blaster or how to make energon but know the calorie count, salt content and ingredient list of over 5,000 foods and drinks. _

_24. You are more excited about Sam's bachelor party than when installing into your adult frame. _

"What is a bachelor party?" Huffer asked, looking around at the other new arrivals. They were waiting for their turn at the obstacle course. Ironhide stood in front of them, finishing his personal touches to the weapon drones.

"A party held shortly before Sam enters marriage, to make the most of his final opportunity to engage in activities a new partner might not approve of, or merely to spend time with his male friends who are often in his wedding party afterwards," Flipside answered, already well versed in the basics of human culture. The scholar was fascinated with the notion and was determined to ask, interrogate and threaten to find out every detail from attending mechs for her reports.

"Humans celebrate a lifelong commitment by being unfaithful?" Override exclaimed, spinning on her wheels. Her red and white armor contrasted with her black shoulder cannon as it rolled for emphasis. "How warped is this world?"

"No spark call? Why would you merge sparks with an unknown femme before initiating a full spark merge with the soul of your equal?" Gilese sputtered, looking disgusted.

"As if any femme would merge with an oath bound mech and Primus help him if the she finds out he is," Antares commented, looking over at her paternal femme.

"Humans don't merge sparks, interface only. Ratchet has files for you to upload on that subject," Flipside stated, determined not to explain that subject.

"All victims step up to the pre repair line, ahem, Autobots weapons ready," Ironhide corrected. His black armor reflected the mid day sun as he gestured for them to start. "First bot to make it across the finish line gets first choice at the new alt forms. Last bot gets what's left."

"What if you don't make it across?" Huffer asked.

"Now why would that happen?" the weapons specialist rolled both his cannons. "I will be the last across if I have to wear you on the end of my foot pads. NOW ROLL OUT!"

_**Story Arc: Hidden within a spark (part 9)**_

Ratchet pulled out of recharge, blinking his optics at the swath of light green above them. 'My ceiling is blue and white,' he processed, bringing sensors online. Rolling his head to the side, he came face to face with Moonracer and smiled. A true from the spark relaxed and content smile he had nearly forgotten how to make. Her optics shuttered as she recharged. He pressed his lip plates gently against hers, savoring the moment then smirked as the faintest twitch of her bottom lip plate showed she was pulling out of recharge.

"You found my spark," he murmured as her optics opened.

"Sharpshooters never miss," she quipped softly, snuggling closer. "And I owe you an apology."

"For?" he asked, running a thumb down her cheek plates.

"Misunderstanding you. You are pure mech, strong enough to fill any warrior position and yet you chose med bay. Others, even me see you as weaker. Yet you serve all of us instead of leading or being a pure fighter. Why did you never tell me?" she answered, keeping her optics averted.

He vented hard, feeling her protoform under his armored hands, the hum of her systems down to the very pulsing of her spark now they were truly a mated pair. "I am not a braggart, or vain. It takes strength to carry an injured mech your size or larger and self-control to rip out a part and seal an energon line as they scream and thrash under your hands. Triage requires I order who is repaired or left to offline and even override Ironhide or Prime if necessary. Telling them does nothing, you have to command as an equal."

"I saw parts, brief flashes of that in your spark when we merged. The price you pay to help and heal. I could never do that," she admitted quietly.

"It takes its toll on me too."

"No wonder you are a cranky old glitch," she teased, rapping the top of his helm with her fist. He vented, optics narrowing. "And before you vocalize another word, there is something you should know." She rushed it out. "Rone and First Aid are sharing medical command and you are relieved of all duties except checking on the sparklings for the next human week."

"On whose authority?" he growled, shifting back from her, sitting up on his recharge berth.

"Yours per the medical protocol you created. And do not get huffy with me. Only a Prime or joint medical authority can place you back as CMO. You failed to complete the order beyond ordering medical assistance. Personally," she formed a wicked smile on her faceplates. "You are going to get the rest and time we need without any other bot interfering." She reached for him then winced, tucking her arm against her chest plates with a hiss.

"What?"

"Blew an internal power core getting here so fast," she said. Then blinked at how fast he moved, cupping her shoulder plate with one hand as his multi-layered optics spun in medical scans.

"Blown is right. It fragmented into your cogs and cables. What were you thinking?" he growled.

"Reaching you across two continents before your spark spires did the same," she snapped back then stared when he began chuckling.

"Maybe you do deserve me," he winked an optic while leaning in closer. "If anything changes in your system, I will know and you are getting an express ride to med bay is that clear? Rank temporarily suspended or not. Understood?"

"I do have the repair scheduled for later today," she said.

"Why later? My assistant First Aid being lazy again?"

"No, the repair is with the Paradron Medic Rone. I wanted to pull out of recharge to your chassis by mine."

"Why?"

"If you have to ask you do need medical rest," she quipped, her optics sparkling with power.

"Rest is not what we are going to get," he leaned in close, touching his lip plates to her forehead before moving down her face.

"My processing exactly. Mmmmmm...I like that."

Two quarters further down the hallway, Ironhide sipped his energon, feeling refreshed even with the recharge disruption of the night before. Chromia held their sparking, rubbing a green armored hand across Ram's tiny helm. He clicked, leaning into her caress. "Bath time for all good mechs."

"Leaves me out," Ironhide rumbled, finishing his energon cube.

"Not so fast," she challenged.

"'Mia, I do not need the wash racks. I haven't fought or done any drills and have been layered enough to hide my armor and you never objected," the ancient warrior mech reminded while refilling his energon cube.

"Good habits for Ram and our future femme. Think of it as payback for all those times you had to wash Bumblebee when he did not want it. Set a good example," she crooned, the sparkling clicking in her arms as she swayed back and forth. He chirped when his mech creator vented and began pulling out cleanser clothes from storage.

Across the hallway, in their quarters, Elita and Optimus continued an important and personal discussion.

"I believe that is the best name for our mech Elita," Optimus stated.

"I understand why but not sure it is...solid enough for him. He is the next living Prime and that name doesn't sound like a warrior," she puzzled, tapping her chin plates with her rose armored fingers.

"This war will end and while a Prime leads," he began.

"And is offlined to come back and fight again to argue with human budget advisors and idiot liaisons," she continued.

"That is not all a Prime does," he grinned down at her, used to her teasing.

"You're right. I forgot to add hand down punishment for twin pranks, rescue screaming twitchy fleshlings and reminding Second in Command officers to leave their office and datapads to prove they still exist to their teammates."

"You forgot the most important," he stated seriously, hiding his hands behind his back plates. Silently, his leg cables tensed as hydraulics slid into a spring ready position.

"Carrying the Matrix of Leadership, protecting the sun reaper Matrix or guarding and serving before the Allspark?" she guessed.

"Keeping his femme happy," he lunged forward, grabbing and pinning her against the wall. Their mass thudded, left the faintest impact shape on the wall. He leaned in to touch her faceplates when an excited clicking began from nearby. They both turned their heads, seeing their mech sparkling watching and reaching for them from his wall mounted recharge bunk.

"I admit, the name fits seeing him like that," she said.

"Not like the Primes are going to tell us what to name him," Optimus stated, moving his arm up to let her duck under.

Across the military base, inside the Autobot med bay, Mikeala grinned up at Bumblebee. The yellow scout nodded, reading the sound clip. "_The best part of waking up!"_blared full strength from his speakers. On the medical berth, Sam's body heaved, twitching awake. His eyes opened as he gasped, arms flailing against the covers. "Ohh," he moaned.

"Easy Sam, you're in med bay. You have to eat before we can give you more pain meds. Hey now," she pushed at him as he grabbed her close.

'They are the perfect couple and I am thankful to be his guardian, no matter the cost,' Bumblebee processed. Revving outside the building got his attention briefly before sensors identified Override and Sideswipe, dismissing them as friendly.

On the tarmac, soldiers froze, letting the two racing Transformers zip around them. The red Corvette kept his distance from the humans as the red and white racing motorcycle wove in and out.

::Do not scare them. They trust our skills:: Sideswipe sent to her.

::I will not touch them. Any scaring is in their own processors:: Override replied over the comm signal. Transforming in motion, her body formed, popping up on her rolling wheels. Sideswipe was right behind, transforming onto his wheels. Both jumped the restraining wall, clearing the ten foot height flawlessly before landing on the black top and rolling down the spare runway. "I win!" she crowed, skidding to a stop shy of the grassy end.

"You didn't win, we finished our patrol in record time," he reminded, finishing their report log and uploading it to the mainframe.

"For spending times around the humans you are dense. A beautiful sunrise on an exotic world, a femme standing in front of you and you won't admit what you see?" she said, rolling around him in a tight circle. "Admit it slow poke, I'm better built for speed and better looking." She posed, her hands behind her head as her wheels retracted to form into two sets of feet pads.

Glaring at her, he ran possible pranks then remembered his twin's unique technique for dealing with a annoying femme. 'They think they have the power over us mechs,' he remembered him saying. 'Only one way to turn that on them.'

Removing all expression on his face, Sideswipe bowed her direction, catching her off guard. He rolled slowly closer, raising his right hand to his chest plates over his spark then placed his hand above her spark. "I am presenting myself for your consideration femme, without demand or reservation. I ask that you challenge or deny my spark, as equal to your own, forever apart yet one half of a whole for as long as our sparks blaze and beyond to the Matrix." He waited for her denial then shuttered his optics rapidly when she hesitated.

"I have two questions before I give my answer," she said lowering her hands to her side.

"That is not the standard answer," he sputtered, pulling his red armored hand back. 'This is not what happens! Every time Sunstreaker got a shouted no! Or Pit no! What is she doing?' he processed internally.

"I'm not a standard femme and the challenge affects more than yourself. First question, have you ever asked any other femme this way?"

"No, never. I was raised in the fighting core," he said without identifying which fighting core. "I saw mechs get distracted and offlined by their relationships interfering. My whole existence depended on my ability to fight and focus. Once Prowl recruited us for his team, we fought where it mattered. We could offline however we wanted, fast or slow and no bot cared. Prime gave us a chance and a future. The only warrior femmes were spark mated to Prime and Ironhide and I have been with a femme, once or twice," his optics focused down and to the side as his faceplates heated. "But never a serious relationship."

"Question two, have you ever considered a sparkling? Your own spark its creation. Is that new life worth the pursuit with your whole spark?" she asked.

"Yes," he admitted, his memory core replaying his feelings after watching Ultra Magnus comforting Silverblade and her new femme Estel.

"Then I accept your request for consideration mech. Without demand or reservation, I will challenge your spark as an equal to my own. If it is suitable, we will merge and become one. If not, I will deny it and neither shall be at fault," she repeated the ancient agreement then added her own line. "Consideration not acceptance. You want me, you will have to work for it and we will both have to know it is a true spark call and not an energy pulse before I take you or any mech as my own."

"You are the first but may not be the last," he challenged right back while reaching for his twin bond. ::Emergency bro!::

::Do you know what time it is? Was up late playing online games:: Sunstreaker sent back.

::I uhm, that is, Override accepted my challenge:: Sideswipe

::Challenge to race?:: Sunstreaker

::Challenge to be my mate. I did it the way you have only she said yes:: Sideswipe sent a databurst of the entire event, his complex weave of emotions transmitting alongside the words.

::You what? Hahahhhahhahahh:: Sunstreaker

::I'm serious:: Sideswipe

::Seriously messed up:: Sunstreaker

::No, I am seriously considering making it real. A relationship can take vorns. Might even get the sparkling I wanted:: Sideswipe

_To be continued...  
_


	10. Chapter 10 Pyxis and repair problems

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Thanks to ladyofdarkstar for the balloon rule beta and the suggestion of the balloon for Prowl's desk. Thanks to fantasyaddic101 for the Eisenhower quote. Thanks to one of you ( I forgot *hides face) for the suggestion of Elita calming Prime. And to all my readers for your help and ideas and encouragement to keep going. At this point, I am **sixteen chapters away from hitting 100 chapters**between part 1 and this ! Woo hoo! Still going strong. Onward to family trying to help and it not being what we wanted.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

_241. When celebrating earth holidays or human events, NEVER ask a Transformer to blow up a balloon, let them near our inner workings and ALWAYS keep them contained in the designated human only areas while on base. _

Prowl regarded the rule on his office datapad, considering harsher language. "What is stronger than NEVER? Hmm, no earth translation even if our languages contain several words that carry the desired intent." He leaned forward, cradling his helm in his armored hands while processors provided recent examples of why the rule was necessary. His metal desk chair squeaked, triggering a lower level holding queue note about oiling it.

"We should have known Mudflap and Skids and balloons would not mix. Annabelle's birthday party was a success until after serving the cake. She pops a balloon which causes her dad to 'blow up' another balloon."

"Thanks daddy," the little girl said, having no idea the disaster that one incident will create. She stuffed more cake, chewing then swallowing while looking over at the twins. "Can you blowup a green or blue balloon? I like them in all the colors."

"Uhm, no." Skids answered, his optics spinning in on the tiny deflated shape. The green balloon matched his green armor tempting him, but not enough.

"We warriors not party entertainment," Mudflap added, forming a frown on his lip plates and crossing his orange armored arms.

"Please? Just one?" she asked, her eyes soft and round while pouting her lower lip a little. Both twins melted under the look. They exchanged an optic look before linking their unique twin bond.

::How we going to do this yo? We ain't got any lungs, or throat or even need for air like them fleshies:: Skids

::Pull air in our cooling vents and move it into the shape:: Mudflap sent, pulling in air then channeling it through his inner workings only to explode the balloon and blow Annabelle's blonde hair back as half the decorations floated away with the gust.

"Ignore super breath, I'll get it right," Skids told her, pulling a slight draft of air in and channeling it into the balloon. It barely inflated.

::Hah! You pulled more air than that when Arcee fell on you last drill:: Skids

::She tripped _over_me, falling and threatening to rip my spark out for getting in her way. You would be pulling air in too. Femme is crazy in battle:: Mudflap

::All femmes crazy. That is why they femmes:: Skids teased, wiggling his optics and jiving on his green feet pads.

::And that is why we single and free:: Mudflap answered, hitting a closed fist against his twin's closed fist.

"Can I have my balloon now?" Annabelle interrupted, looking back and forth to them, the impossible to resist pout on her face.

Wheeljack approached, stepping over a table and guests before bending his white armored chassis down, optics scanning the shape as she held them. "Weak design, intriguing shape but inefficient using air."

"Most of them use helium," Epps joined the conversation, pointing out the ones hovering at the tables and on the backs of the chairs. "They float and bob along. Kids love them."

Wheeljack nodded, his vocal analyzers picking up the undertones of the Master Sergeant's voice showing he loved them too. With a whirr click, the end of his main finger retracted, three mini prongs extending out to grab a balloon piece.

"Gimme that," Ironhide snatched the balloon from Wheeljack, startling everyone with his quiet approach. "It's dangerous."

"How?" his side bars flashed curiosity. "Anything you call dangerous is planet blowing level."

"Hmmf, not always," the weapons specialist answered, dropping it back on the picnic table. "Ask Sunstreaker what happened when he tried making water balloons only to get them sucked into his engine intake valves. Better yet, ask Ratchet. He had to clean them back out."

"That was when I created the first version of this rule. _Transformers should not work with balloons, in either of their forms_," Prowl remembered, tapping his stubby metal fingers on the datapad side. "Then they did super size water balloons that nearly drowned human personnel. The strengthened design from Wheeljack never broke and became reusable target practices for Ironhide and Chromia. I changed the rule to_ 'Transformers do not work with balloons, in either of their forms.' _Sideswipe and Sunstreaker tied hundreds of balloons to a liaisons car, floating it away. Two raptor jets destroyed it, thinking it was a Decepticon attack on the mainland."

"Huffer tried one, inhaling it by reversing the air direction and ended up wrapping it around his vocalizer. He could still use his comm to communicate but forbid anyone to reach in and remove it. He was fun to catch and temporarily offline to remove it. I edited the rule to '_Transformers are to avoid balloons, in either inflated or flat shapes.'_

"Then Hound and Bumblebee changed Optimus parachute to balloons and triggered it on the practice course." His optics flashed the picture of Optimus looking up as every bot pointed at the multi color balloons floating up out of his back shoulder plates. "Love that image and the colors," he chuckled. "At his request I changed the rule to '_NEVER ask a Transformer to blow up a balloon, let them near our inner workings and ALWAYS keep them contained in the designated areas while on base.' _

"Then Sunstreaker and Sideswipe steal the formula from Wheeljack for the super strong balloons. I do not want to know how they accidently sealed Sunstreaker inside one. He could not fire his cannons least he ignite the helium inside and damage his paint. He would not allow his twin to use his swords lest the subspace particles on them charge and ignite the helium. Any other blade is not sharp enough to cut through," Prowl closed his optics, memory core replaying the scene with the twin trapped inside, his red twin snickering as the other Transformers approached the hangar.

"I say make him a punching balloon, like Annabelle had." Ironhide pretended to punch the balloon, pantomiming it going out and back to his fist repeatedly.

"Hey!" Both twins protested.

Prowl stepped in, literally moving to stand in front of Ironhide. "That falls under cruel and unusual punishment. However, can you tow him?"

"Sure, even before floating bot there got sealed inside," he said.

"Why do I suspect there will be another incident to this rule?" the Second in Command pondered. He tilted his helm up, grinning at Sunstreaker floating inside the balloon near his office ceiling. "Nine more breems and you can be released same time as your twin gets out of the brig. Be glad you were charged only with damage to Wheeljack's lab doors and not theft of confidential designs or materials."

"Are you sure Wheeljack can get me out of this?" Sunstreaker asked, sitting with his legs folded, his yellow armor shining and spotless under the lights inside the balloon shape.

"It was his formula you stole and be assured, Ratchet volunteered to repaint your armor should anything go wrong," he advised. "Shame really, Annabelle would have loved you at her party next week."

**Story Arc: To find a femme (pt 1)**

_Prologue: Captured by Decepticons, Prowl had his wing doors badly damaged before the Autobots freed him. Ratchet rebuilt them with increased flexibility and speed. Unknowingly, Prowl later attempted to see how fast they could go, lifting him through the air to crash into the beach with damage to his armored form._

Prowl clenched the front edge of the medical berth with both his white armored hands and suppressed a groan. "Sorry there Prowl," First Aid muttered, continuing his welding. "You're lucky you didn't snap your entire neural column. You landed on your helm with your full weight on the bedrock edge, impacting the force up your entire protoform before rolling and bouncing into the softer sand. And just because they are called wing doors don't mean you can fly with them."

The second in command closed his optics. "That was not my intention. Once they hit their top speed, I was unable to stop them."

"You thought of trying them super speed but didn't think through what would happen or verify if there was a shut down command? Hmm, I will check your logic center and processing after this. Hey, easy on the venting. I learned from last time. I promise to leave your logic glitch alone. But I'm sure I almost have a way to fix it, oops!" The medic waved the smoke away as his fingertip covered the arcing wires with coolant. "Uh oh."

"What is uh oh?" he asked, carefully turning his head to look over at the medic. Face down, his chassis lay on the medical berth to allow access to his damaged wing doors and neural components.

"This is more complicated than I thought. I need to consult schematics. Be right back," the medical assistant said.

::Ratchet!:: Prowl

:: I am resting, with my spark mate. Love how that sounds after thousands of years. My. Spark. Mate. I am relieved of duty as CMO, go ask First Aid or Rone:: Ratchet sent, contentment in his mental tone.

:: I am hurt and need your expertise on my wing doors:: Prowl

::%^()*)( Sideswipe, Sunstreaker or whichever bot you are, this is not funny. Pretending to be Prowl:: Ratchet sent. ::He never needs any bot. I'm closing the line::

::You flunked your psych exam, which I lost, and you repaired my wing doors to speed them up and I need you NOW! My doors are damaged and my neural cable dented and bent. First Aid is at a processing end and about to 'guess' what to do:: Prowl

::He wouldn't. A mistake could cost you half your system functioning. Be easier to move your spark into a new shell than repair all those interwoven connections:: Ratchet growled back.

::He is:: Prowl sent, his pain echoing over the line. His venting was hard and rough as his armor and back plates resealed before climbing off the medical berth.

::What is happening? Is he hurting you? Slagging excuse for an assistant! I will weld his aft to a set of golf clubs for this:: Ratchet

::I am trying to sneak out of med bay before he returns:: Prowl sent then closed the comm line. Raising a closed white armored fist, he signaled a hidden keypad in the wall. Silently the wall between the two medical cabinets slid apart. Hobbling forward, he kept one arm bent backwards to brace his damaged wing door as he stepped sideways to clear the narrow space. The door slid silently closed, leaving him in momentary darkness. Sensors detected his mech signature, brightening floor and ceiling lights. "Thank Primus that Optimus wanted a private way in and out of med bay. His concern over worrying the rest of us provides my escape. A hidden route all the way to the private quarters."

Less than halfway through the secret passage had him venting and leaning against the wall. Blue optics appeared further ahead as a familiar yellow green armored shape moved into the light. "Are you slagging insane?" Ratchet braced the leaning mech, scans covering his every inch. "You do need medical attention."

"I need you," Prowl admitted, leaning his mass on the medic.

"Thanks but I am spark mated now remember?" he teased, moving them both slowly down the hallway.

Antares and Hound waited for them at the wall opening, guiding the injured mech into hallway. They held Prowl on either side as Ratchet began shifting his fingers. "Easiest repairs is with you standing but first," he closed his hand tightly on the white armored arm.

Prowl twitched, feeling the sharp pressure down into his protoform and detected unknown medical lines of coding running through his system. "You sneaky #$% giving me a shot," he drooped, optics shuttering as he went into stasis.

Ratchet glanced over his shoulder at the approaching pair. "Ready young miss?" Annabelle, carried in Ironhide's hand, nodded before glancing up at her guardian.

"Use your Prime gift sweetie. Fastest and easiest way to help him," Ironhide encouraged.

"I like Prowl even if he doesn't like colors. And he took my datapads just because that old meanie Soundwave changed them. But I like helping." She closed her eyes as her hands reached out. The Transformers watched as his armor literally slagged and shifted like water before reshaping into his normal parts covered by armor. His wings straightened out, reshaping and attaching properly.

"Uh, that's not right Annabelle," Ironhide grunted as she opened her eyes, lowering her hands.

"If they are wings they should look like wings. A butterfly's wings!" The little blonde haired girl cheered. Ratchet hid his face in his hands muttering about younglings and their crazy ideas as Ironhide rolled his optics upward. Hound and Antares snickered as the squared off edges of Prowl's black and white wing doors curved inward and molded into a rounded, softer shape. Like curving butterfly wings. "When he wakes up, I can change them but I think they look nice. I think he will like them too."

Further down the hall, the twins continued their conversation inside their quarters, unaware of the group in the hallway. Sunstreaker wiped at his optics, removing the leaking fluids from the edges. "You, you, you," he stuttered, pointing a stubby metal finger at his red twin.

"You said that," he grumped. "I didn't know she would say yes. I expected no with a blast, no with a punch or a kick or no with her yelling at me, not a true yes."

"Only femme attracted to you beats you at racing," he chuckled.

"We were not racing and I am being serious. I want a femme and a sparkling but," Sideswipe gestured wildly with both red armored arms.

"Not now and not Override?" his yellow armored twin asked, leaning back against the wall of his recharge berth.

"She is suitable, but how do I know if it is her? You're the romancing one, always bringing femmes back to the room while I did sword drills. Yah, I've been with a femme or two but otherwise no experiences," he said.

"Only two femmes and a few times as in count on both your hands with fingers left. Our bond let you feel and know what I was doing with each of my femmes," he reminded.

"I overheard your activities, enough to count on your hands and mine plus another bots! And overhearing or feeling the side effects was not by choice," he corrected before sitting on his recharge berth edge across the room. "We swore a femme would never be a problem. If we wanted, we would find twin femmes or both challenge at the same time. Now what am I to do?"

His twin sobered, raising up to his feet pads and approaching. Sitting down, he draped an arm over his twin's drooping shoulder plates. "You're not full spark call yet. If she is the one, I can live with that. Until then, we teach her. How to do proper pranks, survive on this weird flesh based planet and jet judo. Leave her too tired to process any other activities. And we do have a turbo ace in the hold."

"What?"

"Elita, as in the commander spark mated to Prime. She can stop or at least help."

"How?"

"Remember Prime's speech to Bumblebee? She will not approve, trust me," Sunstreaker stated.

"Why?" Sideswipe asked.

"Dude, you been studying Soundwave's profile again or what? One-word conversation? I'll drop a note to Elita asking her to clarify how if we all have to help and there are not enough femmes, who gets first pick and when are more femmes coming. She will have the matter settled."

Two hours later Elita faced off against her mate in their private quarters. "With the Allspark gone we all must do our part. Sacrifices will be required and no mech or femme can receive special treatment, even young scouts," Optimus speech echoed from her lip plates. Her optics narrowed as she switched to her normal femme vocals. "You are right and wrong. With the Allspark rebuilt but unusable, we femmes are needed to continue our race."

"Hold it right there," Optimus commanded, slipping into a battle stance and deepening his regal baritone as he stood in their recharge side room. "That was for Bumblebee alone to hear." He shifted, hips and legs bracing his mass as his arms gestured the intensity of his emotions.

"Freedom is the right of all sentient beings. I will not force or even mention the option of breeding to any femme here. That would not be a sacrifice. Sacrifice is the giving up of something for something better. Forcing a femme is our worse crime, which I have enforced the harshest penalty. I would rather our race faded from the universe than demand any femme to have a sparkling. And I have never revealed the secret you alone know."

"That the matrix of leadership you carry as Prime allows you to mate and create a sparkling with any femme even though you are spark mated to me alone. A protection to ensure our race is never without the knowledge and leadership of a Prime. The matrix is powered by a fragment of the Allspark and holding its knowledge and wisdom of our generations that must be passed onward," she quoted from memory. "You have never used that ability nor revealed that to any other bot, I know. You never wanted to have to make that choice no matter how long we were apart," she said, glancing over at their recharging little mech. "And thank you."

"For?"

"Sparking with me out of love for a true sparkling, mech or femme and not to continue your legacy," she murmured, folding her arms across her chest plates. He crossed to her in one stride, wrapping his arms around her rose-colored frame.

"I grieve for the loss of our first sparkling and rejoice in our second. Pyxis will be Prime only if he chooses," Optimus stated. "Pyximus Orion Prime."

"How are you going to explain his name to the others? Pyxis?" she asked.

"It is a star name like our original names. Pyxis means compass, as in guide. A hope to our race for more than war. Moreover, there are no legends associated with that constellation. He will make his own legends," Optimus stated firmly. "There is nothing else to explain."

"I'm not sure about that," she murmured then relaxed. "What could they say?"

"Not much as long as I am Prime, carry swords, guns and various other assorted weaponry," he grumbled.

"You do not lead by hitting people over the head, that's assault, not leadership, Dwight D. Eisenhower. You should learn human history, rather useful at times," she advised.

"Funny femme. I sent you that data file remember? Excuse me, Ratchet is calling," he stated, switching to his internal comm but smiling as she lifted their mech into the crook of her arm before reaching for a feeding bottle. The shape was smaller than one of his silver armored fingers and contained diluted energon; the sparkling recognized it, clicking and reaching with tiny hands. ::How is Prowl?::

::Beating his helm against an immovable wall named Annabelle. She is refusing to change his wing doors back:: Ratchet sent, his mental amusement clear.

::On what basis?:: Optimus

::He needs to try them for a few days, the same argument he tried to use on her after confiscating the datapads. When she complained, he told her to try human books for a few days:: Ratchet

::Revenge?:: Optimus chuckled.

::She stated it was a learning lesson for Prowl. Cannot wait until she is a full Prime. Be a right pain in the aft:: Ratchet

::Unlike a medic who is always that way:: Optimus teased back, watching Elita clean his tiny face after finishing the bottle.

::Dealing with Primes causes it. And is your mech awake? He needs energon supplements every joor:: Ratchet

::Pyxis finished fueling and is about to recharge. Elita is laying him down now:: Optimus

::Pixie? You named him after a human mythical creature?:: Ratchet's disbelief was clear.

::Pyxis the star::Optimus

::Pixstar the animation studio? Hmm, all Primes are stars in their own processors I guess:: Ratchet sent, his mental tone baffled.

::PYXIS! As in P Y X I S :: Optimus sent back, his venting louder and harsher in the small room.

::Oh, why didn't you say so Prime? Latin for box. Because he will contain all the wisdom of the Primes until the Allspark is fully functional again?:: Ratchet

::NO! As in compass and guide. Discussion closed:: Optimus seethed, closing the line with a burst of static then focusing outward as Elita placed both her rose armored hands on his chest plates.

"Let it go love. We approve of the name and they can learn to live with it. Better than some of the earth names they picked. And he can change it later if he wants, it is our way Optimus," she reminded. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

"And I am supposed to be the wise one. Your counsel keeps me level processor," he acknowledged.

"That's what a good mate does and I will send you my bill later for this counseling session," Elita said.

"Bill?"

"Two breems of intense spark merging followed by energon hand delivered," she smirked, looking up at him.

"Why wait until the bill arrives?" he rumbled, leaning down to touch her face with his lip plates.

_To be continued..._


	11. Chapter 11 Language issues

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Sam and Mikeala's wedding will become its own fic eventually. Not that I need any more stories in progress but it's too complicated to work in here and this is about Transformers, NEST and humans, not just the humans. Add parents for the couple, friends and roommates and there were too many players for a story arc.

This was a hard chapter to write, went through a total mix of rules and combinations. As always, reviews and reader feedback helped. And a new story arc begins: Decepticon femmes, on Cybertron and earth.

Prime's little mech is pronounced _"Pics is"_ but spelled Pyxis. Onward to the difficulties of languages.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

_231. Do not discuss our lifestyle choices with the humans. The two cultures are worlds apart and while they may mix, our two races will never completely understand each other._

"The Transformers are confusing," Master Sergeant Epps commented. Typing up the latest daily report on the laptop, he took time to glance up at his boss sitting directly across from him.

"Anything in particular?" Major Will Lennox drawled, recognizing when his best officer was about to go on a verbal tirade. He sat straight in his office chair, glancing over at the half open door to the main hangar. If it became necessary, he would shut it for privacy, until then he left it open to hear the Transformer activity.

"This concept of spark challenge," Epps began, leaning over the front of the desk and lowering his voice. "Keep it a secret but Sideswipe issued challenge to Override."

"And?" Will asked.

"And I don't get it. Sideswipe is our best fighter, most anti social bot here with all his pranks and he has only gotten worse since his twin landed. And now he challenges the most wild, out of control I don't listen to anyone and take gruff from any bot psychotic femme to be his?"

"Challenge is the right to date or woo a femme, not take her as his. Femmes are not taken but asked of their own free will and spark. Get that wrong and your pieces will end up in med bay," Will reminded, relieved it was only base gossip that had the black sergeant's interest.

"Then why ask this challenge stuff?" he countered.

"Transformers take relationships very seriously and dating can last thousands of their years with the right combination lasting their entire existence. No divorce remember? A falling out or bad mix can literally rip both their sparks apart. On Cybertron, if you remember the history lessons, clans and families were important. The challenge to a femme could require the approval of a clan elder or the main families. Advanced civilization, older than the existence of our entire race? Transformers did not mix and date like humans do. Go to a bar, pick up a girl and maybe keep her. A Transformer may have different interface partners but they had rules and requirements for spark mates and breaking them had serious consequences."

"Like dating your cousin? "

"No, like getting evicted from a clan or disowned. Mirage is high family, Cliffjumper is descended from a famous line of heroes and Ratchet was a middle class politician. Whom they picked was as important as why. Prime's parental mech was one of the original mechs who helped free their race from slavery. Yet Prime's mate is Elita, a femme without high family or political power. He never issued challenge to her fearing his family clan would overrule him and that was when he was a bridge designer only! They were a pair but never officially and once he made Prime, no one dare gainsay his choice. Ratchet's first mate was arranged by their families and presented to him. They would still have been together had she not been offlined in that Decepticon attack. With the war," Will lectured.

"Their numbers decreased and the old ways became lost or forgotten, I know," Epps finished. "Then why did Override say yes when only Prime could disapprove and you know he approves of relationships. Sideswipe and her date and what? Go to the drive in and eat energon snacks? It doesn't work and then what? Challenge another bot and maybe by the time you are a million years old find Mr. or Mrs. Right?"

"Their world, their customs," the Major sighed. "And how did you find out about this?"

"I overheard Hound discussing it with Bumblebee who overheard Chromia and Elita discussing it after Sunstreaker mentioned it to Ratchet during his last repair. "

"And last month's memo about sneaking off base without triggering the new perimeter alarms got missed," Will sighed.

_232. Do not become confused with the human language. It is ever changing, can be both deceptive and clear at the same time and carry meanings only a being raised in their culture could understand. They are a young race and their language will improve as their wisdom increases. Until then, keep uploading the language modules as provided._

"Humans is confusing a lot," Huffer griped. He crossed his orange armored arms and frowned, a common look for him.

::Humans are very confusing:: Bumblebee corrected, glancing between both new arrivals. All three sat on the edge of Annabelle's sand castle, keeping a trained optic on the little girl as she played and swam in the attached bathing pool. They pointedly ignored Sarah Lennox chewing out Mudflap and Skids the next sand dune over. Their diving game using real gold coins had been a hit with the little girl but an overwhelming temptation to the support staff. Three men were caught sneaking into her play castle to steal her treasure chest from the upper floor. The soldiers found their actions disgusting and gladly turned them over to the Transformers. Sarah worried more about her daughter being harmed for the gold than them stealing the gold. Ironhide had confiscated the chest but was overruled by Prime to add any more security systems to the castle.

"Where exactly would Sarah place their processors where the sun doesn't shine?" Huffer asked, overhearing an unfamiliar phrase.

Bumblebee chuckled, knowing what it truly meant. He sent a small data packet on human swear phrases and threats to the older architect.

"Aren't you the mech who developed our translation programs?" Flipside asked, recording the conversation for notes later.

::Yes but as you notice, it is updated continually as we learn. For instance, last week I made a homonym mistake involving Mikeala:: Bumblebee admitted, his faceplates heating up as memory cores replayed the incident.

The yellow scout watched the shoppers passing by his parking space, automatically scanning their bags as his hologram waited by the font of his yellow and black Camaro alt mode. The mainland mall was busy on the Saturday afternoon, allowing him to observe without drawing attention to himself.

Mikeala and Captain Jorgensen swung out the doors, chatting rapidly. His acute alien hearing zoned in on their conversation.

"Those stilettos were fabulous, you really should have bought them," Sheila said, shifting the bags in her hands.

"And when would I wear them? Our honeymoon is going to be three days in Disneyland and my motorcycle repair shop is not exactly the place for them, as bad as I wanted them. Black with silver and polished," Mikeala reminded wistfully, sipping on her frozen latte.

"The base? We could use a touch of fashion," Sheila giggled, waving an armload of shopping bags towards Bee's hologram. "The ambassador functions are killer."

Bumblebee digitally accessed the mall list, searching for stilettos. The specialty cutlery store immediately popped up, displaying all types of weapons, movie recreations and real. Whistling in appreciation, the scout began searching through them, placing orders for a variety of items, including two silver bladed stiletto knives with black handles. His hologram smirked as the girls neared, systems confirming the order would be shipped next day air to the Nest Base, care of the Autobots. His alt mode trunk popped open then both back doors as he noted how many bags they had.

::Only I had it wrong. Mikeala wanted the stiletto shoes, a type with high back heels for party dresses and not bladed weapon knives:: Bumblebee displayed the holographic images side by side.

"Shoes? Look like human torture balance items. The blades are more practical," Flipside noted.

"How did the human femme react?" Huffer asked.

"She loved the blades. Mikeala wore them in her leg sheath under her lab coat until Ironhide detected them. He confiscated them immediately:: Bumblebee

"Why?"

::Afraid Sarah Lennox would want her own set and Sam might handle them. He is not the most coordinated human and should stick to being an ambassador. Prowl has threatened to make a rule forbidding any Transformer to let Sam near a weapon, even mine:: Bumblebee explained, not adding the part where Ironhide had visited him in his quarters.

"Bee have you glitched a holding queue? Giving Mikeala a set of blades?" He started striding into the room. "Pit frag me and call me a Prime," the ancient warrior vented, optics scanning the far wall display.

::My collection:: Bumblebee explained, ducking his helm as he folded his yellow armored hands behind his back plates. He stood off to one side of the wall, the entire surface displaying blades, swords, daggers and nearly five dozen movie themed weapons of all shapes and sizes.

"You can't use these in combat," Ironhide grumbled even as systems began working Cybertronian versions into his data protocols. The ancient warrior mech reached out an armored black hand, pointing to a spinning multi blade weapon that left nowhere for the user to actually hold it to throw.

::They are for show not combat. But they are neat:: Bumblebee

"Neat is what this room should be," he stated, his blue optics glancing at the overflowing trashcan, discarded energon cubes on the bookcase and nightstand. Datapads and datacards balanced on top of them in no apparent order. "Your recharge berth is the only open space not covered. What would Prowl say?"

::I am lost and overcharged on high grade? Only reason he would come near my room:: Bumblebee snickered

"Funny youngling. Prowl avoids the high grade and he does quarter inspections for confiscation of illegal or dangerous items. His rule happy attitude keeps us from having a crater for a recharge area." He waggled a black stubby metal finger for emphasis. "On earth it is minor but he saved us several times during spaceship travel to and from Cybertron."

::From the twins or the other bots, not my room which was always the far side of yours. This is the first time I have my own space:: Bumblebee declared proudly.

The ancient warrior grunted, his optics scanning the room again. "All right, but keep being this messy and you won't have any space left. Been around Sam too long. Picking up his bad habits by Primus," he grumbled, ushering the younger scout into the hallway for the meeting. "And lock that door! Last thing we need are the twins getting inside there. Either set." Unfortunately, they did. It was a race on which bot got to them first. Ratchet to repair them, Prowl to brig them and Ironhide to confiscate their weapon versions to see how well they worked after all.

**Story Arc – To Find a femme (pt 2)**

In the main Autobot hangar, the assembled Transformers waited for their leader and his family. Will Lennox was the lone human allowed inside. Sarah was off base with Annabelle and only Prime's insistence on a human representative kept him waiting. "It's a moment your people have earned. Humans don't need to be there," Will argued.

"Humans will be part of our future and his. I want you there," settled it.

The Transformer conversations were relaxed in the chirps and clicks of their native language. Few were old enough to remember a sparking presentation and none living had seen a Prime sparkling presented.

They hushed as Optimus and Elita walked in the main doors, the protoform cradled in Elita's hands. Tiny blue optics regarded them seriously from the spacing between her fingers. He chirped as she transferred him to the strong silver armored hands of his mech creator.

"I present the spark of my spark, life from my union with Elita. His designation is Pyxis Orion," Optimus intoned even as his smile stretched his lip plates to their limits.

"Pixel? A single point in a raxter digital image?" Skids asked, arching his feet pads up to see the tiny mech held above his line of vision.

"No dumb bot!" Mudflap slapped the back of Skids helm with his orange armored hand. "Pickles, a pickled cucumber and favorite human food."

"No!" Optimus stated with a deepening vocal tone, "It's pronounced Pyxis." He lowered his hands, giving them a better view of the tiny mech. Pyxis clicked at them with wide optics then reached for Elita. This was all new and exciting but he wanted his femme. Wordlessly, Optimus handed the sparking to Elita before advancing towards his team.

"He may choose to be Prime or not, it is a position earned not given. If he does so, his name will be Pyximus Prime but for now, he is Pyxis, my descendant in the line of the Primes."

"Pyxis as in a program called PIX that can take a snapshot of an application running, store the calls to Direct3D and data used in that single frame, and recreate the frame step-by-step, allowing the programmer to see the intermediate contents of various buffers and devices, debug individual vertices and pixels, or see which call took the most processing time?" Bluestreak asked before backing up from the red flecks beginning to appear in Optimus blue optics.

"See the little mech sweetie? Say hi and play nice," Elita crooned to her mech before handing him to sit next to Ram and Chromia. "I got damage control to do." The conversation continued.

"Pyxis as in a type of Greek pottery used by women to hold cosmetics, trinkets or jewelry," Flipside stated, her research of human cultures showing.

"Mech creator is a femme magnet so junior is going to be too?" Sideswipe joked.

"Pyxis means compass, as in guide. A hope to our race for more than war. Moreover, there are no legends associated with that constellation. He will make his own legends!" Optimus raised his volume to roaring.

"TIME OUT!" Elita shouted, her vocals going supersonic beyond the human's hearing range and directly into the Cybertronian range. The sparklings waved their hands, liking hearing her so differently while the older mechs cringed. Bumblebee whistled, impressed with her volume and vocal range.

::Hide youngling if your femme uses that tone:: Ironhide sent as she marched by them and up to Prime.

::Like it. Powerful and do you think there is a femme for me?:: Bumblebee glancing up at his guardian and mentor.

::I found one that chose me back, so did Ratchet. Took us awhile. Why not if you are patient?:: Ironhide shrugged, wincing as Elita matched optic glare for optic glare with her taller mate as they communicated silently.

::Okay, but I want one less wild than Sideswipe's Override:: Bumblebee

"What!" Ironhide sputtered, his optics snapping to the red twin.

"My sparkling's name is Pyxis," Optimus stated, sending out a condensed data packet with the glyphs in all three forms of Cybertronian as well as English. In addition, the coordinates of the star and how to find it in the night sky on both worlds.

"A wise name," Prowl strode in the hangar in his bi pedal mode through the main doors, ignoring the snickers at the shape of his wings. They were still curved and folded inward, allowing him a unique if stylized alt mode. "However, it is the earth matters that need our attention. Pardon my late arrival Prime but I have confirmed evidence Megatron was not the only Transformer ever held by Sector 7. An unrecognized femme was captured upon landing but lost."

"They offlined her?" Chromia asked, cradling both sparkling mechs protectively with her arms. Any mention of human government agencies and her femme protocols went into overdrive.

"No, they lost her as lost her transfer box shipping to a civilian warehouse. The train carrying it broke down in a mining town. From there the records stop. The containment box was found in the last railcar, smashed from the inside," he consulted the datapad he carried.

"Where exactly?" Prime demanded.

"Parkfield, an unincorporated community in Monterey County, California state, Untied States, North America and is located on Little Chalome Creek 21 miles east of Bradley, at an elevation of 1529 feet," Prowl responded promptly.

"Parkfield California," Ironhide grunted. "I know that name from somewhere."

"Weapons factory?" Hound asked.

"Nope."

"Battle field?" Elita ran her own search of human history even as she asked.

"No," his optics dimmed as his memory core search continued.

"Then how you know it?" Skids asked.

"Earthquakes!" he raised a black armored fist as he remembered.

"Knew there'd be destruction involved," Mudflap quipped, shaking his orange armored helm.

"Watching history channel with Annabelle. Scientists go there to study the amount of earthquakes they have. Interesting show actually," he stated.

"I'm surprised," Ratchet said.

"That they have earthquakes?" he grunted.

"Surprised you watched history channel and understood it," he teased back.

"I'll understand you back to your femme you pit slagger excuse of a medic," he threatened.

"Hah! I will see you in med bay to install rings for Chromia to tie you down with so I do not have to deal with you.

"Better than the one in your noseplate to be led around by," he growled back, his cannons already beginning to spin.

"Any visual image of her?" Optimus stepped forward directly between his two arguing officers. One commander glare and they both stopped. The sparklings clicked and chirped, hearing all new vocal tones and movements.

"One black and white image from their archives. Other sources are indicated but unknown at this time," Prowl noted, displaying an image in the air. The sparklings watched, optics wide at the flickering light representation.

"Look at the size of those feet! From pads to below the knee they are huge and solid," Hound vented.

"Like boots," Mirage noted, his optics snapping to the Will's combat boots and back to the image.

"Made for stomping," Will hummed the western music song, unknowingly almost identifying the femme.

"It is imperative we find her, even after this length of time. She may be in stasis hiding like Jetfire or with the humans as only a vehicle as Bumblebee first hid on earth. We will locate her, offer assistance or should the worse have happened, see her remains are entombed here or returned to Cybertron," Optimus ordered.

_To be continued..._


	12. Chapter 12 Decepticon Femmes

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews and e-mails. New fic is up, "Essence of a spark." The story of a Transformer as told from their point of view. One character per chapter. First up is Moonracer. A good femme but under written. Please check it out next.

Story arc here needs history so we are going back in Cybertronian time and following Decepticon femmes. You can cross-reference their names on tf wiki. They are canon and no one guessed who the booted femme was or why Parkfield is important yet. Onward to dancing, and enduring what life throws at you.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

Optimus, last Prime and leader of the Autobot forces walked into the Autobot recreation area and blinked his optics in surprise. Jazz and Bumblebee bounced around, their feet pads moving across colored floor pads. The wall monitor in front of them displayed ever-changing human road traffic signs. Hound, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and Wheeljack were behind them, yelling and laughing. The Autobots cheering the moving bots on surprised him. 'Having fun and no prank, no fighting? What are they doing?' he processed.

"Ahem, you make quite the road block there Prime," Ultra Magnus deeper tone sounded in his audios as the other Commander waited in the hallway.

"Checking it was all clear for a being of you size to enter," he teased back, moving into the room and over to the side.

"You admit I'm superior design then?" the Cybertron commander asked, sparing the moving bots a glance before confronting his age-old friend.

"Not superior, larger support structure. Alas, it is only protoform and not processors," Optimus countered, as the players quit. Bets were paid between the bots then Jazz noticed them.

"Hey ya'all! Come try the Road Dance Off, Country Driving! Show us how it's done," he waved at them to move forward.

"Roads are for driving," Ultra Magnus stated.

::Dance game, follow the signs:: Bumblebee sent to them both on the open comm. :See. Right arrow means move to the right a step, left arrow left. Stop sign is pause:: Bumblebee

"Straight ahead is step forward and curvy road ahead is wiggle your chassis," Jazz explained and demonstrated, bending at his knee joints and shaking side to side.

Both senior mechs paused before Ultra Magnus shook his head and Optimus vented, rolling his optics. "I was looking for Ratchet."

"You okay Prime?" Hound asked, focusing every bot's attention on their leader.

He chuckled, raising two hands palms outward. "I'm fully functional. However, First Aid badly damaged one of the advanced medical sensors, before requesting a mission to verify the health of off base personnel."

"In other words, he's running from the Hatchet and his temper when grumpy bot there finds out what he blew," Jazz quipped as they all laughed.

"You and big blue need backup?" Sideswipe asked, feeling the pre battle excitement. Ratchet loved his equipment and seeing the wrench-throwing medic in action at another bot was fun. Helping restrain Ratchet on command orders meant fulfillment of a fantasy dream.

Ultra Magnus frowned, his idea of being a soldier did not include attacking fellow soldiers. "Sideswipe, I am not big blue and we are capable of handling an irritable medic with our words and not physical actions alone."

"We?" Optimus raised an optics arch. "Let's go big white."

That night, both Ultra Magnus and Optimus stood within the empty room. "We should have taken Sideswipe up on his offer," Magnus rubbed at his arm and the newly sealed welds.

"You should have never told Ratchet his pain sensor lock didn't work because you were missing cables and interior parts."

"I wanted to distract him," the aged mech stated.

"Locking you both in med bay was distracting," Optimus chuckled, turning the game player on. Their scores were evenly matched until the final round. Both jumped in the air intent on the game and setting a high score without thinking ahead.

KAWHAM! Crack crack crack

Their optics flashed down, watching as the cracks from their mass landing impact spread across the floor.

"Been slugging the energon again brother?" Optimus quipped, venting rapidly. His cooling fans whirred audibly.

"Me? Your idea of exercise is ripping off Decepticon faces or taking your femme," he started when a massive silver armored hand wrapped around the lower half of his face.

"Consider your words carefully," Optimus growled and removed his hand.

"Taking your femme for a race around the lagoon I was about to say. We have alt modes capable of super speeds and we stay at 55 mph? How about the Utah salt flats? Longest flat expanse to race. Elita has speed and you power. Race her and use your Prime power to leave her in the dust," Ultra Magnus stated. "Not to mention showing your team what you are capable of over the long haul. Megatron knows and I know but do they?"

"Hmm," he pondered then shrugged his blue armored shoulder plates. "Maybe next year and I recognize what you are doing. I beat your score and you are afraid of a rematch."

"Bring it on," he leaned his white upper chassis towards Optimus nearly touching nose plate to nose plate. "Even better, level two Prime."

"How about three Commander?" he challenged back.

Level Four required them calling the other Autobots for help. The floor finally cracked and collapsed, trapping their feet and legs. Their rather large back pay of credits covered the necessary repairs and life returned to normal for the base. Until Sam and Bumblebee designed Road Dance Off 2, the Rock and Roll version.

_# 242. It is a good prank when:_

_a. You stay overnight in the brig. _

_b. Wheeljack asks how you did it._

_c. You avoid .Ratchet for a while to be on the safe side._

_d. A Decepticon is the target._

_e. You blow a cog gear setting it up._

_f. When Prowl and Ironhide are looking for you. _

_g. Grimlock laughs. _

_h. It involves armor paint._

_i. It breaks rules already in existence._

_j. Your prank victims are waiting to get you back._

_k. You record what happens to play back later._

_l. Your twin started the idea with 'How about we…"_

_m. Sam, Bumblebee, and your twin all approved of the prank._

_n. NEST is No Entertainment Slow Training._

_#243. It is a great prank when: _

_a. You live in the brig._

_b. Wheeljack did not know that was even possible._

_c. Ratchet is repairing you before you go to the brig._

_d. A Decepticon was the target._

_e. Prowl blows a cog gear when he sees what you have done._

_f. When Autobot Command, CNN, reality TV and Sam's roommate Leo all want to interview you. _

_g. Grimlock and all the Dinobots laugh._

_h. It involves at least three colors of armor paint, two boxes of equipment and your best idea to date._

_i. It creates at least two new rules once Prowl's logic glitch unfreezes._

_j. All the other mechs are waiting to get you back._

_k. You play back the prank to enjoy it repeatedly._

_l. Your twin started the idea with "What do you think would happen if we…?"_

_m. Sam, Bumblebee, and your twin help you set it up and help clean it up._

_n. NEST now stands for Neat Escape Surprise Travel._

_# 244. It is a bad prank when:_

_a. You help build the brig from the rubble._

_b. Wheeljack is in the brig with you. _

_c. The other bots need Ratchet more than you do. _

_D. Megatron was the Decepticon._

_e. Prime blows the cog gear._

_f. When human lawyers want to hand you a pile of papers and talk to you. _

_g. Grimlock is not laughing; he is growling and looking right at you. _

_h. It seemed funny when you processed it now it's on your 'never to repeat' list. _

_i. It is a mention to an existing rule as in no holographic cheerleaders, ninja, pirate or political talk show hosts to scare Sam and Mikeala to wake them up. Add American Idol singer rejects to above list. _

_j. The femmes are waiting to get you back (and they will)._

_k. The other Transformers play the tape that you want to forget even exists._

_l. Your twin started the idea with "I dare you to…"_

_m. Mikeala, Override and Sarah Lennox do not approve and will gladly tell you in person if they catch you._

_m. NEST is NESTE as in Need Every System To Escape_

Sideswipe winced, recognizing anger in the second in command's tight posture and angled straight up door wings, curved edges and all.

::I told you jet judo never works:: Sideswipe sent on their twin only bond.

::It brought the seeker down:: Sunstreaker

::You too. Outside a human encampment:: Sideswipe

"It was an accident?" Sunstreaker tried again.

"Accident, that which is unforeseen and unplanned or in your case, an unfortunate event resulting from carelessness or ignorance," Prowl stated in a rising vocal tone. "Clinging to the wings of an airborne seeker in their jet mode and losing your sword out of your hand was foreseeable to cause?"

"A problem," Sideswipe finished.

"A near disaster!" Prowl snapped, his white and black butterfly shaped wing doors fluttering. Shutter covers blinked as he regained emotional control. He hated their snickers but understood. "If those humans had seen us, do you realize the consequences?"

"They will learn of our existence sooner or later. Matter of time," Override commented. Of the three, she had been the most successful. While the twins had wrestled their targets, a wider gap between the wing and fuselage of her jet proved too good to ignore. And her smaller hand wedged the thermal grenade precisely.

"Learn by seeing a blazing ball of light followed by a rain of highly advanced Cybertronian parts?" Prowl challenged.

"Very small parts," she corrected.

"Flaming, slagged melted parts," Sideswipe added.

"Those humans are a cult! Look up the definition. Out in the middle of the desert in primitive conditions, paint all over their bodies for why? Does any bot here read the briefing reports? They believe in sky gods that descend and give them wisdom. These beings appear as everyday objects until the worthy find them then they reveal their true form. If they saw us landing, even crashing, and then assuming an alt mode or vice versa?" Prowl gestured wildly as he lectured.

"Not good," Sideswipe realized.

"I don't know. Maybe having the humans adore us instead of shooting or assigning idiot liaisons would be a good change," Sunstreaker said. Every bot stared at the yellow armored twin. "Or not.

"Humans are complicated enough to deal with. Do not add to their messed up worldviews," Prowl ground out. "We believe the Decepticons were watching them to use them then decided they were not worth the effort. Like you three! Decepticons would be easier to manage that you!" He yelled.

**Story Arc – To find a Femme (pt 3)**

**Warning: Intense Decepticon / Medical sequencing **

**Cybertron – Earth year 1856**

Fracture tread across the twisted metal landscape, her feet pads silently leaving a distinctive print. Square and massive, they flattened smaller debris. Her black protoform melded into the jagged metal ruins as her dim red optics remained focused straight ahead.

:: Show yourself Nightracer:: Fracture commanded, sending to her designated frequency.

::How about I ping one through your shoulder? Try to trace it back when you finish strolling through the open like that:: Nightracer sent back, the sarcasm heavy in her tone.

::How about you look behind you:: Fracture vented, folding her armored arms and waiting even as she faced away from the other's hidden position.

A distant click, a yell of anger and clashing metal had her spinning around in time to see the sniper femme sliding face down the broken building slab. Her sword fell to jam in a crack. The larger warrior femme, Crasher, jumped the low rise, sliding down the slab on her wheeled feet to land alongside. She held her swords tightly and swung them gracefully through the air to pin the other down.

"In the open you focused on me, not your surroundings," Fracture growled as she moved closer. "You are one of the best Decepticon sharp shooters. But you are predictable Nightracer," she snarled, edging her smaller frame with the end of her boot like footpad. "You always take a high point, always leave an escape route. True warriors make their own paths, especially over the slagged wrecks of their enemies."

Crasher's expression was unreadable as ever behind her curved black facemask. Her twin swords retracted to subspace with a hiss as she spun on her wheeled feet.

"Pit spawned gladiator," Nightracer growled, brushing the silver debris dust from her black armor. "All alike. Wheeled feet, big on combat skills low on rank and intelligence."

"I'll remind you to thank her the next time she saves your aft. Again," Fracture said. "Soundwave has called."

"And we answer like good little femmes?" the sniper commented.

"We answer like warriors to our commanding officer," Fracture stated, effectively ending the conversation. "Transform and crush anything in our way," she ordered, folding down into her wheeled alt mode. The trip back to the base was without incident, adding to her irritation. Blasting an Autobot, any Autobot would have helped calm her. She paused outside the hidden entrance, her memory core rebuilding the city plaza from the ruins, the small building where she had first learned Cybertronian history. 'History of the weak,' she growled mentally. 'Play nice, share and we all live happily among the stars. Fragging liars! Never told us the truth, what we could do. Made us follow their rules, be quiet, listen and learn. Bah, I am glad we detonated that building, civilian designation notwithstanding. Propaganda feeder not youth sector.'

Rolling down inside, the femme navigated the turns in her alt mode as scanners confirmed her identity and her followers. Any stray movement, any variances in their identity energy signatures to show a hologram or infiltrator disguise and wall blasters would remove the threat. Transforming, she rose to her bi pedal mode and entered the empty command room.

Fracture paused before the metal chair in the very center, memory cores readily replaying Megatron sitting there. 'How he hated the Autobots, driving us to crush them mercilessly. He led and we trampled them. Now we scurry like cyber rats for energon and parts.'

"Fracture report," a monotone, almost automated sounding mech's vocals ordered.

Without turning the femme team leader raised an optic arch. "You already read the details from my processors Soundwave. Little redundant don't you think?"

" Unnecessary. Action required," he intoned, pointing a dark blue armored hand towards the command chair. "Locate imperative. Danger persists."

"Danger? Don't tell me that excuse of an air commander is at it again?" she groaned, turning to face him fully. He nodded once even as his expression remained hidden.

'Does every bot around here keep their masks engaged?' flittered across her processor before she ruthlessly suppressed it. Mental barriers slammed up full force, locking him out. "What is the plan? Besides terminate Starscream's worthless aft?"

"Follow. Locate Megatron," he said.

"Your orders or the Fallen's?"

"Mine. Survive," he stated with the barest flash of red optics. Data packets loaded into her digital holding queue.

She faced the empty chair and not Soundwave, "I will obey," before leaving, heading for her recharge quarters. Inside, she set the security locks on the door after confirming no one had overridden them in her absence. The recharge berth was small and for a single bot. The room's contents were sparse as the only wall rack displayed her favorite weapon accessory attachments. The weapons were on her in subspace or hid within her armor. "You can never be too powerful, too highly placed or too well armed," she quoted.

Sitting on the berth edge, Fracture began opening the data packets. "Earth, what type of planet name is that? Hot comet landing are they insane? Strip to my protoform and rebuild for a complete trans scan? Why not throw me before Ironhide or Prime, let them stomp me would be less painful." The coordinates flowed into her navigation computer as the assigned appointment with the medical staff flashed across.

"Medics? Hardly that. They strip the wounded to rebuild the luckier targets. No caring, no sympathy and one-step above parts grabber from the offlined. And I have to submit to them?" She muttered, her fuel tank churning with unease. The procedure would be painful, long and necessary for her trip. Fracture frowned, her red optics narrowing as fingers traced the Decepticon emblem etched into her outer metal. "Pain is strength, gives you power to live and for revenge. How many times have I heard that?" she vented. "My new alt form better be worth it. Or the pit is going to have a bunch of medics in it when I return."

At the appointed time, she presented herself to the parts room, keeping a tight hold on her emotions. The waiting metal cutting shears and saws did little to relieve her fears. "Team leader Fracture reporting for trans resetting." The lead bot gestured towards the waiting berth, waiting for her to lie down before securing her wrists and ankles with restraints.

"For your own good," he warned, his fingers transmorphing into tools. "We can give you a mild coding limiter but need you online for the actual procedure. In case things go awry."

"If they do, you can explain to Megatron when I return with him or explain following the delay of his return," she warned.

"Understood," he grunted, prying into the seam of her shoulder plates, widening them to get the cutter shears underneath. His assistants began removing her outer armor, breaking and ripping when fittings refused to budge before resetting the components below. 'Think of anything else femme. The oath. Recall the moment you knew, when you joined your allegiance to Megatron. This pain is your strength. He taught you that.' Her optics closed, reliving the event.

The deserted building was nearly full with mechs and femmes of all sizes, each there to see and hear the silver mech standing on the stage. Three seekers stood by him but not guarding. He needed no protection. His red optics blazed with intensity, his silver claws longer and deadlier than any they had seen. He took one step, creating instant silence.

"I am Megatron, Lord High Protector of Cybertron. The Autobots protect the weak, keeping online those with faulty programming, burning our resources and diluting our generations. They mouth words of peace while restraining our true destiny. To conquer and expand. The galaxy awaits our power. True freedom is our right to choose to do what we want, not to bow before ancient mechs and their ways, their traditions and their rules. Who are they? They are the few that sit at the top who cannot fight, cannot lead and cannot win," he snarled. His red optics blazed with power as his presence seemed to expand over them all as though talking to each one. "Will you swear your loyalty to the Decepticon cause?"

Her ringing yes was lost in the roar of those assembled. She drew on that, shunting out the pain as they stripped her down to the protoform. The core principles of her training flowed across her systems, soothing the pain sensors.

"Respect no one but your own mastery. Master those around you, crush the weak and destroy the unfit. Take what you need, keep what you want and throw the rest away. I am proud, I yield to no bot for I am a Decepticon."

_To be continued..._


	13. Chapter 13 Trying and missing

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews and e-mails. Per reader requests including more twin trouble and sparkling cuteness. And a "test" for fun. Onward to trying and getting it wrong. This is version 2. First time FF net connected words together I never connected. Spacing is now corrected from ff net mess. And I even used their spell checker to boot!

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

_#224 Do not forget we set an example in our actions, behaviors and views to the humans and each other. We are Autobots and ascribe to a higher standard of conduct. * Exceptions are not made for twins, weapons specialists, scouts, or upset Primes. _

Ram kicked his little protoform feet, sucking at his empty energon bottle. "Did my little sparkling get enough?" Chromia chirped and clicked in Cybertronian at him, reaching in and pulling the bottle out of his tiny grasp. Lying on his back in his own recharge berth, he chirped up at her. "I need to clean this, now be a good bot until I return," the femme instructed, her optics sliding to the side and focusing on the young blond haired human girl sitting on the wall shelf nearby. Annabelle raised one hand in salute, acknowledging the unspoken request to keep an eye on him even as she ate her lunch.

Ram giggled, waving his arms and stubby metal legs before rolling to a sitting position as his mother left the room. He clicked at Annabelle. She clicked back before climbing over the rail and moving to sit by him.

She put her sandwich down, tapping his fingers with hers. His optics moved towards her sandwich. "Human food," she clicked in Cybertronian, picking up and taking a bite. Smiling, she swallowed then took another bite. "You can't have this."

He clicked, reaching for it.

"No silly, can you chew?" she asked, showing him the motion. He dropped his jaw, bobbing his head up and down with his mouth open. Giggling, she closed his jaw with a finger. "Use your jaw not your head." She opened her mouth and he copied. She closed her mouth and he did. Open and close, they repeated it a couple of times. "There, you can chew. But not this. My grilled cheese sandwich. No, mine," she held it up beyond reach. Her eyes glanced towards the open door then back to the sparkling. "Mmmmmm, better not. You don't have a tongue or spit and no way to swallow," she tapped his nose. "You might get sick and I don't want you sick. You're my friend."

He pouted, folding his arms while revving his system a little. "Are you growling at me? You are," she scrunched her face up and leaned close. Growling back, she watched his optics widen in surprise.

"And they say our species are too different," Chromia teased, reaching in to lift them both out. "Ram has a check-up appointment with Ratchet. Your mom is waiting in the main hangar."

Half an hour later the femme watched her sparkling sitting on the medical berth as Ratchet completed his check up. Ironhide stood alongside, one black armored hand wrapped around her hip plates.

::When are you going to tell him you are carrying again?:: Ironhide sent to her alone.

:When he is done with Ram. Unless you want to?:: Chromia

::It is all yours my love:: Ironhide

::Hah! Takes two old cog:: Chromia bumped her hip plates against his while smirking.

Ram squealed, drawing their attention to him. Ratchet tapped his bottom jaw with his armored yellow green finger. "Absolutely normal reaction to the sensor test," he turned, looking at Chromia and Ironhide when it happened. "Hey!" he yelped as Ram bit down on the end of his finger. "Let go," Ratchet ordered, gently trying to pull his hand back. Ram held on, forcing him to stop. The little mech growled, grabbing at the finger with both of his tiny hands.

"You fed him right?" Ratchet raised an optic arch.

"Bottle and a half with the new minerals," Chromia confirmed, moving forwards and sinking on her legs to lower her optics to the height of the recharge berth. "Do we touch weird old stuff with our lip plates? No icky bad." The femme crooned.

Ratchet vented. "If that were true you'd never touch Ironhide."

"Funny medic. Now release him," Chromia clicked the command and smiled when Ram obeyed her. "See, no problem," She picked up her sparkling, rubbing over his helm with her hand. He clicked happily, leaning against her palm. He sat still, reaching and holding his hands before his mouth and made an up and down motion.

"What is he doing?" Ironhide puzzled.

"Is he chewing?"Ratchet guessed.

"Annabelle and her sandwich," the femme realized. "She was eating it in front of him."

"Sparklings copy what they see. I remember Bumblebee gluing a discarded data pad cover to his face plates to copy Prime's battle mask," Ironhide remembered.

"You're doomed kid," Ratchet muttered then yelped as a large black armored footpad hit his front shin plate. "I'm going to weld your aft to your..."

"Language!" Chromia snapped.

The mechs wrestled across the floor, grabbing and punching as Ram chirped and clicked excitedly. Chromia vented, waiting for them to stop. "Now see that hold Ram, copy that and how to get out of it. And that punch though not to that part of his armor. Oh, do not copy that. That's just daddy being rough," the femme said. "Please Primus, let our femme take after me."

_#226 Do not alter official papers, tests, reports and needed materials for a prank without keeping an original untouched backup. _

Prowl held the datapads in his white armored hands, resisting the temptation to be anything but a professional second in command officer. His blue optics blazed even as his black and white armored wing doors twitched once. "Your assignment carried clearand precise instructions. A chart outlining your knowledge and interaction with the humans to create a matrix for newly arrived Transformers. And this is what you present." An armored finger tapped the top data screen.

"We listed it the way you wanted and what you wanted even to revealing a few pranks," Sideswipe said. He rolled idly on his wheeled feet, knowing it irritated the officer when he refused to engage his feet pads and stay still.

"What do we need to change?" Sunstreaker asked. The yellow armored mech glanced at his twin in confusion. They had tried to follow the orders so what was the problem?

"Change the entire test," Prowl stated, handing the datapads back to them.

"What test?" They chorused, scrolling through their data pads.

_What race are you? Please answer the following truthfully and record your answers for scoring at the end: _

_1. A report is due and your attitude is :_

_a. Another day, more paperwork filed after the deadline with a good excuse and bad spelling. _

_b. Not needed, too busy trying to survive._

_c. On time to superior _**O**_fficers with a prank attached for later. _

_d. All stolen, worthless reports are for target practice like duh!_

_2. You need refueling:_

_a. Four food groups – take out, microwa_**V**_e, delivery and add water._

_b. Drink some energon, store the rest for later. Not sure where the next refuel will come from. _

_c. Share with all around you, _**E**_ven the high grade._

_d. Drink until full, subspace the rest and keep it hidden from those worthless slaggers you fight alongside of. _

_3. You find a damaged building following a fierce battle:_

_a. Think "building permits, EPA clearance, environmental clean-up, overtime for the destruction crew and wonder what that is going to cost in today's market to _**R**_ebuild?"_

_b. Hide inside until both forces pass by. _

_c. Scan to __e__nsure no being is trapped then tag as a landmark for the next scout or warrio_**R**_. _

_d. Blast it for target practice. Hey, it was going to fall down eventually anyways. _

_4. You need an upgrade: _

_a. Don't even ask. Consult the Intergalaxy treaty, federal laws, state laws, city codes, ordinances, local guidelines _**I**_f you apply properly and receive approval by a committee that meets once a month to _**D**i_scuss budget requests..._

_b. Non military uses only. Ask a sympathetic Autobot medic if it is critical. _

_c. Ask __R__atchet, First Aid, or Hook when they are in a good mood and you have the time for medbay. _

_d. Steal the parts and install on your own chassis as needed. Last resort – the parts techs that use the term medic but could care less about you remaining online. _

_5. You pass an injured T__r__ansformer on the battlefield:_

_a. Call command or superior officer and ask what to do before approaching and asking, "Are you okay?" in _**E**_nglish. _

_b. Continue to sneak across the battlefield and do not get involved. It is not your _**W**_ar and you are not armed._

_c. Call for the medics and help stabilize and calm them __i__f Neutral or Autobot and guard if Decepticon. _

_d. Blast their spark into shards and take their parts and weapons for yourself. _

_6. You could tell a lie to get out of _**A **_situation:_

_a. I plead the 5__th__ amendment, call my lawyer, this is illegal _**S**_earch and seizure and lie like does this dress make me fat or yah boss, you are always right type lie?_

_b. We __d__o not lie, the bots that fight this war lie they are doing us good by fighting each other._

_c. We do not lie and we do not _**H**_ate. We aspire to better things including freedom for all beings._

_d. Yah, when I said I would answer your question. * points weapon * 'Slag off, I'm busy,' while reclining in a metal chair. _

_7. A friend needs help:_

_a. Ok, but it is going to cost you. Sure, but you ow_**E**_ me lunch, or fill the truck back up when you are done moving or similar response. _

_b. Exchange places to hide, Autobots to help and where to find energon._

_c. Help without thinking about it, even to an __e__nemy, because it is the _**R**_ight thing to do._

_d. I do not have friends, acquaintances and I offline them to take their rank and position or weapons._

_8. Your base of operations:_

_a. Is anywher_**E **_I can put my boots, tennis shoes or clothes on the floor and get away with it. _

_b. Is any__w__here I c__a__n recharge withou_**T**_ being _s_hot __a__t. _

_c. A crashed spaceship inside a dormant volcano, Diego Garcia base or Mikeala's repair garage._

_d. A sunken __sp__aceship, the desert, any_**W**_here away from the air commander's whiny vocals. _

_9. Your leader is_

_a. The top position changes every four or eight years and _**I **_did not vote for him so do not blame me. Otherwise, it depends on the mission, the assignment and who survived the last battle. _

_b. No leader, we keep to ourselves._

_c. Gives us hope and keeps us going but he really _**N**_eeds to tone down his latest paint job. It is embarrassing for a mech his age._

_d. A psychotic maniac who thinks he can rule the galaxy and cannot control his temper or his _**S**_econd in command. _

_For every a. answer you get 1 point. For every b. answer, you get 2 points, for every c. 3 points, for every d. 4 points._

_0 - 9 Human_

_10 - 18 Neutral_

_19 - 27 Autobot_

_28 - 36 Decepticon_

_37 + Go back to school, you cannot count dumb aft._

Sideswipe continued protesting their innocence when his twin vented in surprise. ::What?:: he sent over their private twin bond.

::Did you notice a few letters were darker than the rest?::Sunstreaker grumbled.

::And?::Sideswipe

::Put them in a single line:: Sunstreaker

Sideswipe reread the document in his processor, lining up the darkened letters.

O V E R R I D E W A S H E R E T W I N S .

His optics shuttered rapidly, ::_**Override was here twins**_! That daring femme set up us::

::You know, maybe she is a good match for you Sides:: Sunstreaker commented thoughtfully.

**Story Arc – To find a Femme (pt 3)**

**Cybertron & Earth, year 1856 **

The impact crater still smoked when Fracture glanced her crimson optics back. The nighttime darkness barely registered on her advanced sensors. The sandy shifty soil felt strange beneath her feet as the stars overhead were unknown. "This is a slagging excuse of a planet. No metal layering or proper sized structures, biological life forms, and no signal from Lord Megatron. This search could take a pit's time," the protoform femme grumbled then straightened with military precision. A Cybertronian signal was inbound to her location, closing fast. Seeker fast and powerful.

Overhead, Jetfire roared into view, his Cybertronian shape distinctive as a cargo hovercraft. Without any betraying of light in the darkness, the mech shifted to his massive dominant bi pedal mode. His creaking, groaning slow transform caught her by surprise.

"Aching ancient excuse of a body," he swore while tugging at his transform helm. It flipped up, revealing his red optics and ancient facial design. "You're a femme," he exclaimed, red optics narrowing in on her smaller lighter form.

"I'm a Decepticon warrior femme who is armed," she corrected, the hint of warning in her voice. "I'm here to find High Lord Protector Megatron."

"Hah, he ain't been spotted or heard from! Find the ancient Prime's tomb first! Fallen still in charge?" Jetfire asked, creaking and shifting to a bent over form. She backed up a step, concerned he might actually fall on her.

"He is but Starscream is in temporary command," she ground out.

"Starscream? Little bitty sparkling? Silver with red and blue on his seeker wings? I remember him. Threw a fit , threw his toys and his energon bottles," the ancient mech rubbed at his hanging chin metal plates. "Real handful to his parental femme."

"He's still a handful," she chortled. "Where is your alt form?"

"Ain't got one," he gestured at his dark metal chassis. "No craft large enough on this world except sea ships. Tried that but the motion made my tanks churn."

"How backwards is this world?"

"Technologically nonexistent. When dawn alights the daggers tip, three kings will reveal the doorway," he quoted as his red optics looked skyward. She recognized the signs of metal deterioration and energon deprivation on his scarred frame. He vented, looking down as if seeing her for the first time.

"You're a femme," he exclaimed, red optics narrowing in on her.

"I'm leaving to find Megatron," she said, backing up slowly.

"Megatron? Is he here? Got a signal he was coming for the Allspark. Never arrived. Lost the signal over the ice cap. Got my own search to complete," he saluted then transformed, slowly assuming his cargo hover mode before rising and zooming out of site.

_To be continued..._


	14. Chapter 14 Finding Megatron

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. I added artwork links back into my profile page, making it longer. None of the artwork is by me but other artists. First section are the works mentioned in previous chapters and the next section are some of the drawings I use as references when describing or thinking about the Transformers and the couples.

Flipside and Fracture are both canon femmes. Okay, I changed a few details for this fic like Fracture arriving further back in the past than the comic version but it works. I researched on tf wiki. Flipside was a known Decepticon spy without detailing who made her that way. Here, she is tied to Soundwave. Half a vorn is 40 years, Vorn is 83 years.

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_225. Do not encourage humans to adopt our concept of relationships, however cute you find their actions. _

"Sapphire?" Mikeala read off the datapad. "My code name among the Autobots is 'Sapphire?' How did they pick that?" Her rising voice echoed around the empty Autobot med bay.

"Your blue eye color," Sam pointed out as he sat on the human size stool. Spinning it in a circle, he grinned at her while keeping his leg brace off the floor. "What's mine?"

"Your eyes are light brown at best," she answered playfully, keeping the datapad screen away from him. "Nice change from the blue optics I'm use to. Ratchet thinks all our human color variations are a waste of identifying markers. Wait until Halloween and I get those cat eye contacts."

"I meant my code name Mikeala," he stopped spinning and began to tap his brace on the floor.

"Sam."

"Yah, what is my code name?"

"Sam." She leaned forward, her long dark hair falling to cover her face.

"Tell me or I'll get Ratchet after you. Tell him you fainted yesterday, or you could give me that codename," he threatened.

"Sam, no lying. And it's mean to make him worry about us humans," she said, the faintest irritation betraying in her tone. "Your getting hurt all the time nearly fritzes his processor. " She began counting on her fingers while balancing the datapad on her hip with the other hand. "That crazy human invention sun burning you inside a warehouse and nearly leaving you blind. The hit and run by that drunk driver," she pointed down at his leg brace. "Ironhide confiscated my stilettos because of you. He never asked, just demanded I hand them over."

"That must be the small print when we agreed to be adopted. Prime is father and Bumblebee is brother and Ironhide is crazy Uncle Weapons who keeps us safe while firing his cannons and taking our weapons," he teased, smiling at her.

"I liked them. They had perfect balance for throwing," she muttered.

"Everything about you is perfect," he smiled, wiggling his eyebrows. "Now what's my codename?"

"SAM!"

"What? I'm looking right at you hey!" he yelped as she thrust the datapad practically into his face.

"S A M. Sam is your code name. See?" she grinned as he pushed it away, uncrossing his eyes to read the alien glyphs.

"Oh, my name literally in their language. Better than 'boy' I suppose."

"What did you want it to be? Dorkmaster? Finder of ancient matrixes, world traveling screamer, or gifted in outrunning giant alien psychotic robots that the rest of the world does not know exist? Skilled in finding more ways to accidentally and uniquely injure myself than can be explained?" She giggled.

"How about lover of beauty?" he said quietly, grabbing her and pulling her close, the datapad clattering to the floor.

"I thought you were a gentleman," her body relaxed against his grip.

"I am. I haven't touched any bare skin now have I?" he smiled, admiring the way her tank top and low-slung jeans revealed her body.

"Ahem," a mechanical voice interrupted. Ratchet peered down at them, optics lightly spinning against his yellow green armor. "This is my med bay and you do not need medical attention. Sam, your ankle is healing within the metal encasement supports and Mikeala, you need to eat. Your energy levels show signs of decrease. And you both need release of tensions," he began.

"Never mind we're going!" Sam yelled, reaching for his crutches.

"Don't say it! You can smell hormones yada yada yada" Mikeala snapped one hand up in warning as she half jogged out of the med bay with Sam hobbling alongside.

"Another shining example of your bedside manner," Chromia joked, her eye arches raised as she waited for them to leave before entering. The blue femme entered, venting as the unseen automated systems disabled her weapons.

"I was about to say they could use my sleeping quarters. It is empty and the door locks. The twins Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were sneaking around last night pranking and nearly blew up half the guest quarters. They can stay with Bumblebee in the new wing but there are no human facilities yet. Lack of sleep is raising their internal tension levels," he gestured for her to sit down on the medical berth. "Wheeljack is helping me with repairs on Grimlock tonight. Sprang another jaw gear and that will take half a joor to replace." He watched her settle, confirming weapons and battle defenses were offline before touching her.

"As spark mates, perhaps you and Ironhide should give them advice. They are in a constant state of pre-mating tension and need to conclude this 'wedding' or learn to control their core systems better. Now why are you here?" he asked, switching fully into his chief medical officer mode.

"Because," her blue optics twinkled as her lip plates twitched with suppressed laughter. "My behavior with Ironhide has me carrying a femme sparkling. How many kids do Sam and Mikeala want?"

_247. Do not encourage human psychologists, psychiatrists and socialists to study us. They will be wrong, create confusion and annoy us. _

"You are a human psychologist and these are large alien robots," Major Will Lennox regarded the psychologist with professional courtesy, making no obvious gestures, movements or facial expressions. His body language was non-defensive even as he wanted to tug and pull at his dress uniform.

"I have dedicated my life existence to testing and examining the thought processes. Your own report stated they are similar to use in many ways," the man reminded. His grey suit was plain and a contrast to his red and purple polka dotted bowtie.

"Similar but not the same," he corrected gently. "They agreed to limited observance with their chief physician, Ratchet examining the results."

"Always glad to share my discoveries and explorations of the psyche with a fellow expert," he stated. "You understand the test?" He tapped his black leather shoulder bag for emphasis.

"I understand the request for the room, a table and chair and energon cubes. I'm not so clear on what you are testing them for?" He smiled and gestured the man to move around the row of tanks.

"Marshmallow test. Very famous. Take a child, place him or her in a room with no distractions and only one table and chair. You set a large marshmallow in front of them. Explain clearly if they eat it, that is all they get. If they wait, they get another marshmallow later. And observe them. Children able to resist the temptation of the first marshmallow show strength and financial prosperity later in life. Children who can keep themselves entertained are creative. Those who immediately eat it lack long term goal processing."

"And this applies to the Transformers how?" He nodded at the waiting soldiers, returning their salute.

"Energon my dear boy! Instead of marshmallows, I will use energon and gauge their reactions. They will not be able to see me observing and I want to know nothing about them before hand," he cautioned.

'Nothing is the right word,' Will thought. He continued escorting the man into the research hanger while wondering if he could get a look at the reports. And the best way to sneak the man off base before he upset Ratchet with his preconceived ideas.

Prowl entered the room, his blue optics scanning the contents and cataloging for dangers. As second in command, he had insisted on testing first, unsure of possible threats. His white armored hand held the instruction card, a single optic arch raising at the energon cube sitting alone in the center of the table. He sat down quietly on the huge metal chair, subspacing a datapad and began updating reports. The cube ended up sliding out of the way to allow another datapad for cross-referencing. The timer sounded, releasing him. "I have fueled for the day but thank you for extending the energon as a courtesy." He nodded towards the darkened glass wall, before leaving the room and the research hangar.

Ironhide entered next, cannons lightly rolling and systems ready for surprise attacks. When none appeared, he scanned the energon. A frown appeared on his lip plates as it registered normal fuel, though of a low-grade quality. The instruction card became a crumpled ball. "Waste of time," he grunted. "If I have to stay here, about high grade huh?" His massive black square armored form faced the one-way window. "This slagging fuel wouldn't power me one astro second." Sighing, he began stretching, working out a stiffened hip cog. His cannons rolled, a deep red glow at each end. "Enough! I have target practice to attend to." He grabbed the cube, draining it with a grimace. "Pit grade not low grade." Tossing it over his shoulder with his left hand, his right arm cannon blasted it and part of the wall behind it.

Skids and Mudflap were next, wrestling and fighting over the single cube, smashing the table and sending the acidy blue fuel flying.

Wheeljack began sketching upgrades for the cube container shape and found the one-way wall interesting but passive. Sophisticated cloaking devices and thermal image blockers filled his attention. The timer beeped, releasing him to his lab to begin building prototypes.

Bluestreak found the entire experiment fascinating and began guessing at possible outcomes aloud. His monologue outran their tape system and the timer.

The only Aerialbot to be tested, Air Raid, reacted poorly to confinement in a small room on the ground. He blasted the door and shot for the sky, creating an instant if rather large jet shaped sky light in the main hangar roof.

"Did the psychologist give up after that?" Sergeant Epps snickered; hearing Will tell the tale to him and the others.

"Pretty much. Ratchet met him leaving the research area. Complaining about the low quality of the energon affecting transformer systems and post or pre fueling snacking interfering with their indicators. Chased him half way across base with the man sputtering the entire way," he chortled.

"Only half the base?"

"Sunstreaker rolled up in his alt mode and offered to give him a ride to the tarmac for the plane ride home," he wiped at the tears in his eyes.

"Sunstreaker? Why would our yellow prankster offer to help?" Captain Jorgensen, her green eyes crinkling as she thought hard. "I thought the man arrived in helicopter. What plane took him off base?"

"Oh no," Epps muttered and stared at Will.

"They wouldn't, would they?" He hung his head, the amusement fading fast.

They had. An Aerialbot provided him the flight off the base to the nearest mainland airfield with instructions to protect and escort him as valuable. A silver fighter jet arrived and left with him before the ground crews discovered the flight never existed. The Autobots identified energy trace signatures left as Starscream's pattern and feared the worst.

Nevertheless, the psychologist arrived in downtown Tranquility three days later with a gag and bound tightly in a human straight jacket. The note on his chest in ancient Cybertronian read simply, "Please keep your idiot pets to yourselves. He put even Soundwave to sleep with his pit-skewed theories. Megatron, Lord Protector of Cybertron, Commander of the Decepticon forces and taker of all the energon I want."

**Story Arc – To find a Femme (pt 4)**

**Earth year - 1898**

Fracture rose to her feet pads, turning automatically to view the night sky above. Her red optics mapped out the exact position Cybertron held, even beyond her furthest sensor range. "Half a slagging vorn I've been on this world. Half and still no sign of the Lord Protector," she grumbled. "I've learned the human excuse of a language, or enough to understand their attempts to communicate. Sky god indeed. I landed in 1856 and now it is 1898. I've been in existence longer than their calendar." Transforming, she reverted to her Cybertron hovercraft alt mode, pulled out of memory cores. Hovering, she skimmed over the mountain lake and evergreen trees.

"No suitable alt modes. Cannot believe that cracked processor Jetfire survived forever on this mud ball. No wonder he searches for what cannot be found. Three kings and all that. I have a signal for him, your lost processors need you and wait, Jetfire said he lost the signal over the ice cap. Megatron's signal? Two ice caps on this world but the Allspark would have approached through the black hole transit. The Arctic Circle it is." Her form blasted skyward, layering into the jet stream current. Five days later, her dark form descended above the polar sea, skimming over the icy waves. Another three earth days in frigid temperatures before traceable signs led her closer.

"Supersonic signaler, only one of our kind could hear. Or their small animals, what is their name? Dog. Their hearing is sensitive to detect us. Alerting worse than a pit spawned Autobot net array when I get close. Offlining them angers human worse than stomping on one of their townsfolk," she muttered then stopped. Depth scans indicated the glacier ice below her feet pads was solid, totally encasing Megatron's shell.

"One arm blaster melt job on the way." Her right arm transformed from shoulder to metal fingertip, parts moving and shifting to form a single ion barrel. The charge built, drawing on her reserves. Her protoform temperature began to drop as the power rerouted. "Get him free, recharge and return to bring him out. Then Decepticons will rule the universe."

Her barrel glowed red, releasing a fluctuating wave of power. The compacted ice dissolved, rising in a wave of steam before freezing and falling to earth as ice crystals, freezing to form icicles. Layer by layer, she melted down to his level. Dropping into the hole, she reduced the power to half, tracing his darkened shape. Twenty minutes later she stopped, grinning in triumph. Megatron lay face down on the ice, his hand outstretched as though reaching for her. Her optics, now a diffused red scanned the cavern space she had created. The falling steam coated them both, creating long icicles on their armor.

"I will get you free," she promised. "You saved me once." Her memory cores replayed the incident as her arm reconfigured to her normal limb shape and hand with elongated metal claws. "I have not forgotten." Her processor swept backwards in time.

Megatron glaring at the supply officer standing at the base of his command chair. His red optics met the others before he flinched, faltering before the strength of his presence. The smaller lighter mech nearly trembled. "We cannot make more and your plans include too many. We must conserve," he stumbled out. The mechs and femmes at their stations watched earnestly as their lives depended on that energon.

"Unacceptable," Megatron stated. "Either raid more fuel depots or find a way to decrease the energon required to supply our forces." His posture matched any high senator as both arms rested on the chair supports. His fingers had tapped the edge and now stopped. "The answer?"

"How about offlining the femmes?" He sneered, optics still on the floor.

Fracture vented, weapons locks targeting the nearest mechs turning her way. Megatron never said a word, never changed his optics and never moved. The blast from his arm cannon surprised them all. Screams erupted as mechs dove for cover or out of the way of the now sparkless shell thrown backwards. He stood, drawing every optic to him.

"Femmes have earned their right among us. They offline the foolish and destroy the weak. I will not hear a mention of any plan to offline them individually or as a group, is that clear? Any bot that endangers them or offlines one faces the same charge as for offlining a warrior mech. And I will personally carry out the sentence." His red optics blazed.

Fracture kept from shaking, realizing how badly things could have gone. They all bowed low as he strode past them towards the door. "And remove that piece of garbage from my command center."

Breems later she sat on her recharge berth, trying to explain to her roommate what happened. "I never expected Megatron to rule that way."

"He uses femmes but has no use for them," Flipside commented thoughtfully. Her recharge berth nearly buried with datapads and notes as she reached for more data forms.

She regarded the researcher with an optic glare. "Meaning? And in less than a breems explanation please. And no technical terms."

"Meaning he can interface with them, even spark merge if he chooses but doesn't need them or any bot for his command. He relies on his own skill, strength and programming. Think of energon. He needs, refuels and forgets it as he continues his existence. The same for a femme. If he wants, he takes one to use then continues. His spark is bound to no living being nor will be," Flipside explained.

"Never looked at it that way," the warrior femme admitted.

"Soundwave noticed it actually, warned me when he and I first considering being mates," the civilian researcher said. "Afraid Megatron might view our relationship as a weakness in a command officer. Soundwave sees and records a lot."

"And speaks very little," she rolled her optics. The shoulder cannon disconnected, lowering into her arms for maintenance. "Perfect for a communications officer."

The smaller femme nodded in agreement. Even to her their conversations were short and brief, preferring data transfers. "If you will excuse me, I have a medical appointment scheduled. I'm being retrofitted for a new project."

"Weapons finally?" She smirked, tapping the weapon pieces slowly filling her berth space.

"No, data program. Will know when it activates," she said. "See you tonight at recharge time. I have hallway patrol duty."

"I watched her leave, never seeing her on Cybertron again. It was only later I learned they had reset her entire personality module to become an embedded Autobot spy." She vented, her optics refocusing on the frozen form of Megatron. "A rewrite where she did not even know who she had been. But Soundwave did," Fracture realized. "That high council of commanders took his spark mate and placed her beyond his reach then wondered why he blackmailed them into total submission. Two even offlined themselves than face what he knew and would reveal. The pity. Would have offlined one myself."

She vented, noting the dangerous redlining of her reserves. "Melt enough to create a thin layer to hide this hole. Not that any human would trek here. Their fragile nature could never survive these temps." Sealing over, the ice solidified as snow began to fall. Faintly heard in the supersonic range, Megatron's locator beeper continued signaling. Fracture's sensors were inactive to conserve power as the massive blizzard began trekking its way across the frozen landscape. Less than ten miles away, she transformed down to wait the howling winds out.

_To be continued…_


	15. Chapter 15 Robot cats and steam trains

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. And for the first rule, go through the entire sequence before having a spark attack. Thanks to ladyofdarkstar for her beta help on the very rough version of these rules. Any mistakes are mine and I do use spell checker. FF points out misspellings but won't keep my corrections. Bet the twins messed with it.

The story arc references the first movie where Sam's ancestor found Megatron though indirectly. Locations and events in 1898 are real history. Onward to unexpected side effects.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

_262. Do not overcharge on high grade around the humans nor let a human get drunk around us. Both races lose intelligence as the first effects begin. And never get in a slugging contest with both races against each other. Humans can die of toxic poisoning from too much alcohol while an overdone mech or femme will face Ratchet and a stripping of their systems from one end to the other. _

Sarah Lennox threw the receipt and aspirin packet in her purse, not really paying attention to her surroundings. The night clerk returned to his comic book as she left the convenience store. 'I appreciate Ironhide escorting me back to Diego Garcia, I really do. However, his alt mode rides like the tuck he resembles. The last of the storm kept us here on the docks for hours, unable to ferry across to the island or get a flight with the Aerialbots on missions. And I am not trusting a human pilot in these winds.' She straightened, muscles in her back and legs stiffly pulling. She winced and bit back a sigh. "What was I thinking doing an extended yoga class then riding here to meet Will and Annabelle? My muscles are tighter than ahh!" She gasped as a uniformed soldier stepped around the building in front of her.

"Hey lady, I'm American," his words had a lisp to them as though he had to focus to say them. His brown eyes glazing over as he blinked at her. "Storm is done, water everywhere hey."

"You're drunk and going to be on report," she frowned. She quickly noted the Diego Garcia support staff emblem before glancing over at Ironhide patiently waiting in the nearby parking space in his vehicle alt mode.

"Need company?" He moved closer, slicking back his buzzed cut hair. "I want more party. You want to party?"

"Listen up soldier," she snapped. "I have a high ranking husband. So if you want latrine duty the rest of your life keep talking. Otherwise back off!"

"You go back," he slurred, lurching forward and pinning her against the wall. Her purse fell to the ground. She gasped as the stench of alcohol nearly overwhelmed her before a quick kick to his shins had him releasing her arms. She shoved against his chest, forcing him to reel backwards as the familiar sounds of transformation began. "Oh slag," she swore even as the sounds of the words were lost under the arming cycle of Cybertronian war cannons.

"Hands off before I blow them off!" Ironhide demanded, cannons glowing as his parts finished transforming him into his bi pedal mode. The man scoffed looking around then looked up and up. Unbalanced, he nearly fell before waving side to side.

"What? You…know….you is ...robot," he stuttered out.

"I am Sarah's guardian. Leave the area and go sober up youngling," he ordered, moving a step closer.

"But she's human. Like you care," the man spit out.

"Love knows no boundaries," Ironhide replied, his vocal tone softening. "It shares all things, believes all things and lasts throughout time immortal." He knelt on one metal knee extension, his blue optics glowing at her. "I love her essence, her bright spirit, the way she laughs at the morning sunshine and the falling rain. Love sees beyond the physical manifestations." He reached out his black armored hand towards her. Sarah held still as he ran one stubby metal finger gently down her back. "I was a lonely soul searching for my equal. A light to heal the pains of my past and a joy to my spark." His optics darkened to almost a purple as he turned to face the man directly.

"You touched her," he growled. The man squeaked, visibly shaking as the nearest war cannon aimed his way, its glowing red end brightening. Without a sound, the man's eyes rolled up in his head and he fainted, collapsing onto the pavement.

"You okay Ironhide? You seem a little…distracted?" Sarah began stepping back, unsure of what to do. Her blue eyes were wide as her breath rasped in her throat.

He chuckled, standing down his weapons as his optics returned to their normal bright blue. "I lost a bet with the twins and had to watch twenty nine of your human romance movies. Never thought they would be worth a slag," he grunted then winced as his hip cog pulled while rising back to his feet pads. "Your race uses words and physical touches. Mine relies on direct processor connections and spark melding. Any Transformer can see I am a spark mate and my dedication to Chromia and our sparkling Ram," he pointed to the engraved glyphs on his armor.

She sighed in relief, chuckling herself. "You sound pretty good there big guy. Had him convinced."

"He never met my Chromia," the ancient weapons specialist smirked. "My beautiful warrior maiden with the best tasting wires this side of …"

"Hey!" Sarah threw her hands up in the air. "TMI - too much information!"

"It's your race that makes those slagging movies with every act of your mating rituals displayed I had to watch, made me want to purge my tanks," he grumbled. "Complete waste of processor space. Have recharge nightmares every time I hear a human say marry me for the next thousand orns."

"Just don't mention this to Will please," Sarah commented while retrieving her dropped purse.

"Afraid he would be jealous?" he teased before transforming back down to his black GMC Top kick alt mode.

"Afraid he would watch those movies with me. I prefer action dramas myself."

_253. Do not convert human animals and existence into mechanical existence without considering consequences. And using holograms first does not count as proof there are no problems. _

"Annabelle, what's wrong?" Ironhide asked gently, his scans reporting nothing amiss with the young girl medically.

"It's raining and I can't go outside. Mom and dad are busy in their rooms. I am tired of Jazz's music and I miss my cat," she sighed, leaning on the metal rail on the communications platform by her guardian.

"I can't stop the rain and blowing the speakers will stop the music but then we'd hear Skids and Mudflap arguing. Cat huh?" His lip plates formed a frown; he knew her love of the black and white feline. Jazz moved to stand in front of the giant wall speakers, lowering the volume to the Cybertronian range.

::Reassure her Ironhide:: Ratchet sent on their internal comm lines.

::Slag off medic. She is lonely and needs more than you...hmm, maybe not:: Ironhide's optics narrowed.

"Ratchet can make you a Cybertronian version," Ironhide said. "A mechanical cat look alike to stay here on the base with us," the mech pointed at the other Autobots standing behind him.

"Where will he sleep? I don't want him scared or lonely at night."

"Ah, with Bumblebee. He has his own quarters now we have Ram and our little femme sparkling arriving too, " he reassured.

"Really?" She brightened, practically bouncing with excitement. "My own cat? Would you really do that?"

"Ratchet fixes everything, ain't I told you that?"

"Why do you make my existence difficult?" Ratchet moaned, sliding one yellow green armored hand down his faceplates.

"If it was easy you'd get bored," Ironhide shrugged human style. "Sides, I want it to comfort her, not blow up."

"Wheeljack makes thousands of modifications and inventions that never blow up man," Jazz reminded, bouncing to his music.

"I meant by me. The slightest threat and I would make it a target. Ratchet knows human limitations. 'Jack would focus on making it faster, bigger and more powerful."

"Good point," the medic agreed.

Two days later, it was ready. Ironhide sat the cube shape at her feet. "Call it to you Annabelle," he instructed and stepped back, a precision mini laser gun sliding into his hand in case.

"Here kitty kitty," she called, crouching before it.

The black and white square transformed, four square feet, flexible tail and square cat's head with triangular ears unfolded. The blue optics opened and roved, as if searching. Annabelle held out a hand, grinning when it barked and moved closer.

"Nice going Ratchet, cat's meow not bark. Wrong species," Ironhide grunted.

"It meows. I upgraded the language base this morning and the vocalizer needs time to adjust," he said. It rubbed against her legs, the sounds changing slowly to a cat's higher pitched meows. Laughing, she picked it up as it nuzzled across her blond hair. "I'll take care of you and keep you safe."

"Me Grimlock keep safe," the large mech scooted down on the floor in his Tyrannosaurus mode towards her.

Sunstreaker suddenly smirked, glancing over at his red twin. "Kitty needs claws. A way to protect itself and her, can't be too careful." He nodded, the plan already forming in their processors.

Wheeljack rubbed his chin plates thoughtfully, designing ways to make it more responsive and faster.

"Grimlock, meet my new kitty, Tango," she held the metal creature up towards him. It hissed, displaying fangs. The large dinosaur shaped warrior grinned back, displaying his massive metal teeth.

"Me like. Got teeth but tiny," he tilted his head back and forth to see from his side optics. The mechanical cat made itself at home the first day, transforming back into a cube to recharge at night. The first night the twins grabbed it, measuring for retractable claws, installing them the next night. Wheeljack borrowed it the third night, modifying its behavior routines to learn as a sentient being.

Annabelle taught it basic tricks including fetch and roll over. "It's really smart," she showed her dad its abilities. His only comment was if the Transformers could make it behave, why couldn't they have the same programming for the twins, either set?

Various Transformers offered upgrades or did them without admitting to as the month progressed. The cat shredded the first robot mouse toy and the cement floor it rested on. After a mini lecture about playing nice, it obeyed its human owner and kept them sheathed.

Until the day they played outside, pouncing on thrown feather balls. Overhead, a Decepticon shape glided silently on metal wings and anti gravity lifts, jammers on full. Tango saw the shadow on the ground pass by and froze, sensors angling all directions before it slunk forward towards Annabelle.

"Come on, get the feather birdies. Come on, what? You don't want to play anymore?" She tossed another toy, puzzling why he watched the ground and not the air. "Hey!" she yelped, and moved backwards as metal claws snapped out, digging in near her sandals. Crouching, the robot cat sprang for the nearby building ascending it like a mountain climber before balancing on the roof edge.

Whether it was a twist of fate or divine sense of humor, Laserbeak dropped lower to get a better sensor reading.

::Confirm activity:: Soundwave ordered, monitoring closely through its red optics. He detected the blur of motion on the roof, assuming it was a human made camera. Laserbeak ignored it, sensors detecting no known technological configuration and therefore no threat. By then it was too late as Tango jumped.

With a screech, Laserbeak plunged straight down as the black and white blur dug into every gap in his main plating with claws, raking and biting. Realistically, the Cybertronian cassette warrior was in no real danger of offlining but had never faced such a determined enemy before.

::Engage escape protocols:: Soundwave

::Help! Help ! Help! It is clawing me everywhere! Help, cannot shake it off!:: Laserbeak spun in a tight circle, clipping a wing on the hangar roof before fighting for altitude. Below, Annabelle's screaming mixed with her emergency beacon, calling every Autobot to her. The soldiers followed them, all arriving in time to see the teary-eyed girl running back and forth.

"It's hurting my cat! Help Tango!" she pointed up.

Major Lennox winced as the flying mech screamed high-pitched. Gold and red shreds of metal dropping down like confetti shreds had Optimus chuckling at the sight even as his rifle scope locked.

"Autobots hold your fire! We cannot fire without hitting the cat," he ordered, glancing down at the little girl.

::Why not target them both?:: Sideswipe asked, his optics tracking their erratic flight. ::One thrown concussion grenade and threat gone::

::I will not destroy Tango in front of her. Her memory core should not contain that image:: His optics above his battle mask blazed.

::Understand:: Sideswipe answered then smirked as the robot cat hung upside on Laserbeak while clawing as the Decepticon screamed.

"That hurts," Epps chuckled. "What? I am not going to feel sorry for it. Spying on us. It's a Decepticon."

"I didn't say a word," Lennox said.

Laserbeak struggled upward, when a flash had them all blinking or shuttering optics. Skywarp teleported in, swinging a metal wing tip under the fighting bots.

"No!" Annabelle screamed before Skywarp started screaming, his purple colored wings rippling and changing. The red blast sent him spinning, Tango falling as Skywarp teleported Laserbeak away.

"Got 'im! Ahh, only grazed the slagger. Wanted that wing," Ironhide grumped, his cannons slowing in their rolling.

Prowl dove forward, his black and white armored body scraping across the pavement to catch Tango. The cat barely moved as he cradled it. Ratchet scanned, identifying conflicting programs before whisking him off to med bay. Will carried Annabelle, murmuring reassurances.

"What did you do with the last seeker wing piece you hit? Make an umbrella for Annabelle's picnic table?" Prowl 's metal fingers wiped at the scrapes in his chest armor even as nannites began repairing them.

"Not even," the old warrior gruffed. "Awning cover for her sand pit. She has light external pigmentation and is sunburned easily. Next one will bolt to her wood climbing house ladder. Play all day. Need two wings to cover the picnic table."

"Me have no play area," Grimlock whined, dropping his metal muzzle to rest on the ground.

"You have no work area either," Epps reminded. "You go where you want and who tells you no?"

"Hmm, good point. Me Grimlock like kitty." The Dinobot grieved as hard as Annabelle did when Ratchet sadly let them know he was unable to save it. Optimus offered to have it replaced.

"Won't be the same. I liked Tango," she sniffed, wiping at her eyes.

"True, but they need your care and love the same," the leader suggested. Three more robot cats were created. The first disappeared jumping in the lagoon after a shark nearing a swimming Annabelle. The shark floated onto shore at the next high tide, torn apart. Local pearl divers began circulating tales of an underwater demon hunting those who strayed too close to the island.

Wheeljack began designing a saber-toothed tiger Dinobot shape until Prowl heard and confiscated the plans. Optimus sympathized with his civilian scientist but would only allow a robot cat. The second took to his sparkling more than Annabelle, who returned to school in the fall. Things went smoothly until the night he ordered his son Pyxis to recharge and the sparkling threw a fit. Exasperated, the ancient Prime had reached to scoop him up, only to grab a handful of hissing snarling shape that flowed across his chassis faster than trackable. Elita laughed hard enough to strain an abdomen cable but helped smooth out the silver scratches in his armor later. Even the one across his aft and back plates. The cat escaped the holding cell after terrorizing the twins locked in the next brig cell over. Human soldiers hid every night as it howled. It shredded five traps before crossing over a land mine trap. Prowl requested the third robot cat as his after enabling coding protections to prevent tampering.

That one was run over by the new liaison's car. The car did not survive, the robot cat did. Unfortunately, its attack protocols engaged, treating the car like a Decepticon but classifying the liaison as a prisoner and therefore sparing his life but not his clothes. The poor liaison needed counseling and became an avid bicycle rider, never locking himself inside a car again.

**Story Arc – To find a Femme (pt 5)**

**Earth year – 1898**

The arctic wind howled, blowing ice crystals across the frozen landscape. The three government men huddled closer in their fur lined coats, watching as their teams continued removing snow. "Another one? How many are there Edward?"

"Unknown John. The first is clawed and large, this one is smaller and not far from the other. A servant perhaps?" The shorter agent pondered.

"Irrelevant. Best guess is a arctic storm trapped it, freezing it to death. We will transport this one to the lab. The other remains where it is until we know what we are dealing with," the agent in charge ordered. "Who knew a mad man would hold the key to protecting our race from these things."

"Is there any hope for Captain Witwicky?"

"No Edward. Our best have examined him. No treatment exists for what ails him. We copy all he draws, transcribe every word and will build our existence on it. Until then, he is safe behind iron bars and stonewalls. If more of these things appear, he will be protected more than our families," the man's eyes narrowed as his cigar blew out in the wind.

"His son is demanding we release him to his care," John stated, his graying hair mixing with the white ermine ruffle of his coat.

"Release his effects, minus the symbol drawings and let him visit. He will understand the...challenge of his madness."

It took hours to free Fracture's frozen shell from the encasing snow and ice. Loaded onto a schooner sailing ship, they began the slow trek back to civilization. In the hold, her stasis shape remained chained and hidden from the crew. Reaching the docks, they transferred her to storage. A rat gnawing on an internal recessed wire triggered a reaction even as its crisped body fell deeper into her armor.

_SYSTEMS RESERVES 4%, SWITCHING TO ALTERNATIVE FUELING_

_SOLAR ENERGY, ESTIMATED TIME TO ACTIVITY...UNDETERMINABLE. CALCULATORS DOWN, SYSTEMS OFFLINE. STASIS ENGAGED._

Months later the steam train pulled into the Burlington train station in Omaha Nebraska. The three agents disembarked, marveling over the modern Italianate style of the building. The large canopy covered both tracks but not the railcar that held Fracture's form.

_SYSTEMS RESERVES 17% SELF-REPAIR 76% COMPLETE. ESTIMATE HALF AN ORN TO REACTIVATION._

The men enjoyed the spacious lobby, taking time to eat at the lunch counter. They would have shuddered not laughed had they seen the train's Chief Engineer crawling under the engine. The government agents never saw his frown or hurried consult with the train's mechanic or the wiping off burnt grease.

Six days later the agents woke to the sounds of screaming horses. Stumbling outside, Edward spun to see the last railcar smashed apart from the inside. Horses tied to the town's train station screamed again, throwing white specks of foam as they reared and thrashed. "Ground quake!" John yelled, swaying and balancing. The rumbling slowed before easing off. Sleepy townsfolk mixed with train riders as they calmed the horses and themselves.

"Our town ain't had these problems until the railroad came through," a woman complained, her high whiny voice carrying clearly.

"Shut yer trap ma! Why Doc Sanderson came here cause the miners needed him and we make money good shipping the ores out," her husband snapped, fighting with the reins of the lead horse.

"Idiot farmers," John muttered, pulling self-consciously on his sleeping long johns. "Where are we again?"

"Parkfield California. Steam engine blew its water housing. Be two more days until the replacement train arrives. What do we tell them about our missing cargo?"

"Nothing."

John stared in disbelief at the senior agent. "They need to know the danger."

"What purpose would it serve? We are in war with Spain, battles at Manila Bay and San Juan Hill. We have landed at Guantanamo Bay in Cuba with the US Marines. We annexed Hawaii and invaded Puerto Rico. Theodore Roosevelt leads the Rough Riders, inspiring us to victory. That is what their simple little minds need to focus on. Not on mystery metal. In this heat and light how far could it get?"

"True. And I need to get a telegraph out fast. Make sure Ice Man is kept frozen forever. Can't have him waking up like this monster if we ever move him."

_to be continued..._


	16. Chapter 16 McGreasy and a stagecoach

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. I read every one and check back on them to incorporate reader suggestions though I cannot guarantee when or if they will be used. Subject to tweaking as needed. And there are still quite a few to use. Thanks to laureas for the door design for couples, thanks to Dragonrider2203 for the NEST acronyms. Rule # 255 is a plot bunny that someone can expand if they want.

Life has been crazy for me lately, hence the delay in this posting. Parents are in the last leg of their divorce, the other three of my office that have been sick are slowly returning to work and being able to work normally. Good news, next two chapters are in progress and several of the other fics will be updated with new chapters too.

Story arc is brief and a continuation onto the next major part. Onward to what hides in plain view.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

_255. Do not attack our enemies simply because they are our enemies. A gesture of non-aggression made without endangering ourselves may result in an encounter without fighting or casualties._

"Lunchtime," Sam grinned, pointing at the corner McGreasy restaurant. Dressed in blue jeans and black t-shirt, only the skin above his neckline showed his scarring from Egypt. Mikeala pursed her lips at the giant yellow food sign.

"Are they on every corner? We've passed four already. You're only eating here," she walked alongside him on the sidewalk, dressed in her customary jeans and tank top. "Because Bumblebee is meeting with Hound for reconnaissance. Too many unidentified Cybertronian signals across the satellite frequencies. Walking around town, even if we are visiting your parents for a few days is not a good idea." A small blue remote control truck rolled at her feet, emitting beeps and squawks as though agreeing.

"He lets me eat cheeseburgers and I am tired of not going anywhere on that little island. This is my summer, home from college. Where's the danger?" he shrugged. They waited for the traffic to pass by before crossing the road and into the parking lot. His foot was nearly healed, only the awkward shifting of his oversize boot revealing his injury.

"Once a month if you are lucky but it's your body. First scan and they will know what you have been eating," she reminded, flipping her long dark hair over her shoulder. Reaching down, she tucked the small blue truck under her arm, patting it affectionately.

His hazel brown eyes met her blue ones. "I survived how many Decepticon attacks and being thrown all over the planet and I should worry about calories? " he quipped, opening the glass door for her to enter first. The smells of onions and cooking grease wafted out. The yellow and orange tile floor, the tan laminate counter and waiting teens appeared ordinary.

'Why are they all wearing dark sunglasses? Must've attended the same party last night.' He beat her to the counter, grinning at the man standing by the register. Middle age, the barest trace of grey showed at his temples. Stocky and broad chested, his long fingers tapped across the order register with precision.

"Ready order," His voice bore no emotion with a mechanical flatness to it.

"#4 The GL special. Triple burger with five slabs cheese, extra large fries and..." Sam began.

"Oil filter?" the monotone counter clerk suggested.

"No, thought my car might," he grinned back at him. "Large Oreo shake."

"Glutton man special," his flat voice called over the intercom.

"Grilled chicken sandwich, no toppings or cheese and a baked potato plain and diet soda," Mikeala ordered next.

"Plain dead seeker, ground spud," he called back ignoring their startled look. They paid and sat down at the table nearest the front windows, idly watching the traffic. The truck sat on the table between them, for once quiet and unmoving. Sunlight glittered from the taller office building across the way, as thought its metal roof moved in afternoon sun. Sam glanced back at the workers, watching them fumble their way through the normally quick process. "I don't remember the McGreasy symbol being purple before," Sam commented thoughtfully.

"Starscream! Fries!" the shortest counter worker yelled.

"I'm trying!" The dark haired teen snapped back. His arms below the blue short sleeve shirt were tattoo covered to the fingertips. Dumping fries into the first basket, the frozen shapes overflowed onto the floor and plopped into the grease. The other two baskets remained empty. He began pushing buttons at random, all three baskets lowering into the grease, throwing splatters everywhere. "This primitive system doesn't respond to my commands! It's a waste of time!"

"Then you shouldn't have made that bet if you couldn't handle losing," the small Spanish looking teen ground out.

"It's the Autobot's fault! My plan was flawless and they didn't flee!" He stormed around in a circle, arms waving.

"You forget Prime's gun reaches in the air! Blasted your wings right enough," the teen with purple spiked hair reminded. His flipping of burger patties dropped as many as he landed on the serving tray.

"Screamed like a human all the way down," the Spanish teen snickered.

"Shut those lip plates Rumble before I drop you in!"

The man at the counter closed his eyes, shaking his head side to side. "Mechs behave," he ordered. "Orders to serve."

"Oh $#%! Decepticons!" They swore at the same time. She grabbed the truck, holding it tight to their chest as they ran for the door.

"Wait, this isn't right," she stopped, turning back towards the counter. The truck in her arms shook and squeaked.

"NO #$%! 'Keala. Run and call Optimus," Sam twitched, one hand reaching for the doors and the other stretched towards her. Glyphs flowed across his vision, identifying each Decepticon hologram to its owner.

"If they wanted us dead we'd be. Ssshhh, it's all right," she breathed over the toy then sighed as it transformed into Wheelie. He scrambled from her arms, rolling across the floor and wrapping around Sam's booted foot.

"Flee! Flee! Forgot the food!" he yelled in his little voice. "The shard, I lost the shard, Jetfire had it."

"Where are the normal workers?" she challenged, bracing her feet and glaring at the counter man.

"Ran away when we arrived," Rumble shrugged, continuing to spray ice cream and cookie fragments in the mixer machine.

"Imagine that," Sam ran a hand through his hair, imaging the minimum wage teens seeing the Decepticons arrive at the start of their shift.

"Why would Megatron order that? And the shake machine cover is missing," Mikeala noted.

"Lost bet. Cannot hurt human one day. Serve here. Humiliating," Soundwave's hologram replied, bowing his head. His sunglasses fell forward, revealing blazing red eyes.

"I bet it's hard not to squash or hurt us puny humans hey!" he yelped as Mikeala elbowed him.

"Sam be nice! Have you ever worked in a fast-food restaurant? No, you did chores around the house for money, computer work for neighbors and friends without having a job like this in your perfect life. I did for couple of months. You think people really want to do this type work? Hot, greasy atmosphere? Putting up with people who are never satisfied? Think about it," she stressed.

"The adults are worse than the teens! We did those little puppy toys in our kids meals and they pushed and fought for certain toys, dumping the bags back on the counter. It's humiliating that they are thousands of year old sophisticated war machines reduced to asking, 'do you want fries with that?'" Mikeala finished.

Soundwave and the other holograms nodded. Their order completed, bagged and dumped on the counter.

"Let's get our food and go. You may be free, I have datapads to study," she grabbed the bags and strode rapidly for the doors. Wheelie transformed back down to his truck mode, staying close on her heels.

"You sure it's safe? Leaving them there?" Sam kept glancing over his shoulder and into the air, as though expecting Starscream to attack. The metal shapes on the office building roof swiveled their way. The thought crossed his mind how everyone missed the two jets and assembled mechs resting on it.

"The best revenge is to do nothing. Eight hours at a McGreasy is torture enough for anyone," she commented.

"Dang it!" he swore, looking in his paper bag.

"What?"

"Forgot the ketchup for the fries."

_267. Do not over process ordinary things to make them fit our existence. The humans modify everything, from the environment to their language. Adaptation is good, domination is not. _

Prowl tapped the architectural plans with his white armored fingers, careful to keep the force at a minimum. Annabelle sat on the edge of the plans eagerly watching. The distance to the floor from the metal Autobot sized table never restricted her movements or the large Transformers on either side of it. Prowl's office was one of her favorite if rarely visited spots at Diego Garcia. "A real playground? The swings are okay but boring. I like learning to drive and fly but daddy doesn't," she smiled.

"The suggestion has been offered several times without garnishing the approval of your parental units until now," he reminded her. His optics sparkled for an astro second as his systems accessed the proposed plans, from a simple addition of more swings all the way up to her private amusement park on the mainland if she could stay with the Transformers. Already plans for the Ark base outside of Portland included quarters and an indoor play area designed for her.

"I know why mom wants me around other kids, to be normal. But I like it here. Even if I can't tell anyone," she said, circling the super slide but crossing out the spinning wheel.

Blue optics regarded her kindly. "We keep the secret on Cybertron who our allies are like you and your mom. Soldiers the others understand but not our cute little human sparkling," Chromia teased, circling around the seven-year-old human girl with her armored metal finger.

"What other secrets do you keep?" she asked, the highlighter stilling in her hand.

Prowl and Chromia looked anywhere but at her when Bumblebee slid into the door, balancing on one foot pad and playing a "ta-da!" sound clip. "Hi Bee!" she smiled, waving at him and accepting the ice cream cone from his yellow armored fingers, the plans forgotten.

"No sugar to Annabelle without permission of her parental units and Ironhide," Prowl reminded, folding his white and black armored arms across his chest plates.

:: Its fat free all natural and no sugar:: The young scout pretended to sniff the air, before winking a blue optic and offering her an open hand to ride on.

"Don't want to keep your babysitter waiting," the blue colored warrior femme said.

"I don't need a baby sitter," the seven-year-old girl grumped. "Ironhide taught me to shoot, the twins to sword fight and I know how defend myself or hide until its safe. 'Bee taught me hand-to-hand combat and Ironhide too. Even Optimus showed me how to ram a sword down into a spider drone." A quick shift of the cone prevented the falling drop from going anywhere but into her mouth. "I speak all three forms of Cybertronian and English. I am a human Prime who can move metal; I do not need a babysitter. I am too trained and too old."

The Second in Command vented rapidly, fighting the swirling lights on the edge of his vision. "Taught you to?" he repeated numbly, his logic glitch threatening to trigger.

"The twins are older than your civilization and Prowl is their spark sitter. The brig is their play room we just don't call it that," Chromia stated seriously, forming a grin when Annabelle giggled, her lighter mood restored.

"Do they have to take naps?"

"Only when their jet judo backfires," he muttered softly.

The femme smirked, waving goodbye at the girl as she was carried out by Bumblebee. "Time for me to check in with Ratchet. Finalize the last for the details over the delivery."

"Any final suggestions?" he asked, tapping the plans. "The playground or the buildings surrounding it?"

"One. Do not set a mech's or femme's personal quarters so the door opens when said mech or femme is in what a human would refer to as an compromising position," Chromia stated.

"The doors are equipped with locks, especially private recharge areas," he vented, rubbing at the center of his helm with his hand.

"Unless your mech is in a hurry and blasted his way through them," she teased. "Did they ever settle on a name for the new quarters?

"PQTW as in Personal Quarters Third Wing," he stated firmly.

"All the other acronyms were rejected?"

He raised his optics towards her without answering.

"Where is your sense of fun Prowl?"

"In med bay on spark support," he said the barest twitch to his lip plate. "It wasn't the quarters that were the problem; it was the other acronyms like alternatives to NEST - _Globally and Universally Networked Soldiery _– GUNS. _Global Resistance Against Nasty Decepticons _– GRAND," he stopped as she covered her lip plates, laughing behind her armored hand. "You do not want to process the ones that I will not repeat."

"Already did. My two suggestions you missed," she pouted before disappearing out the door. Intrigued he looked up the suggestions by identity of the sender.

"_Known Interspecies Cybertronian Keepers Allied Forces and Transformers _- KICK AFT. And _Cybertronian Offensives and Networked Soldiers Getting into Violent Encounters Undetected by Press - _CONS GIVE UP."

**Story Arc – To find a Femme (pt 6)**

**Earth year – 1898**

"James! Rig them horses," the husky man commanded. The stains and crusted food mixing with the heavy dust on his clothes. His worn boots stomped his irritation. "We got all day ride to get." He grabbed the stage coach sidebar, swinging up onto the front bench. The reins locks rested over the wood yokes. He concentrated on loading the shotgun as the horses neared.

"Trying!" the other man struggled with the reins. "Something's spooking them," he leaned backwards against their force, trying to control the bits in their mouths. The brown and tan coach sat on its wood spoke wheels, creaking with the shifting weight of the man locking the chest of gold pieces under the seat. The horses rolled their eyes, straining backwards as white froth speckled their mouths. Twenty minutes later, their shaking equine forms pulling in the yokes as they galloped out of the mining area. The round trip run completed in record time, as though the coach drove itself.

That night the horses stampeded from the common barn, screaming in sheer terror. The town drunk gave a wild story about the stagecoach changing to a metal monster but nobody believed him. After a search, the original coach turned up back at the mining depot. Lightning flashed overhead scaring the townsfolk. They waited for the rolling thunder, muttering about curses and dark portents when it remained quiet.

In the thermosphere, nearly 480 miles above the earth the brown and tan Transformer closed her optics, the last of her metal layering locking in against the pull of gravity. Rock rough and metal paneling slagged together to form a comet like protective shell. 'Nine joors to Cybertron and if one slagging bot mentions this alt form I am taking their spark! Slagging folding myself into subspace for that tiny open size,' Fracture processed. 'The first sleek, speed mode I find I am keeping. Whatever it is and however long it takes to find it.'

_To be continued..._

_NEXT: Fracture returns to Cybertron to report, get new orders and make a choice. A choice that effects two worlds. _


	17. Chapter 17 Seeing and Fallens new plan

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews and adding this fic to favorites. Per the poll on my profile more Sam, Mikeala and Wheelie fun coming. Fracture is now an official Transformer toy in her race car mode. Exclusive to wal-mart but available on e-bay. I linked a picture on my profile under _"Artwork I use as references"_ if you want a view of her final alt form.

March into April has been insane for my work and personal life! I wanted to work on Sam and Mikeala's wedding fic and its nothing but notes still. Updates should be quicker as I return to writing and my other fics.

Thanks to Lord Destroyer for Rule#252 and most of the superpowers lines. Thanks to ladyofdarkstar for working on the Prime energy lines with me and patiently enduring my IM on Transformers. Side note: Fracture and her relationship revealed here is fiction work not canon. It is possible and makes sense but not official TF history. Onward to fun.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

The Master Sergeant peered up from his sentry desk at the sounds of young voices. His dark eyes focused back on his computer console as he identified Sam and Annabelle. His hand moved away from his holster without him seeing the way Optimus blue optics narrowed halfway across the hangar. The ancient Prime monitored both his troops as they reviewed procedures and the human soldiers busy at their tasks. 'Their vigilance even here on Diego Garcia is approved but I do not approve of the idea of loaded weapons around the children,' he processed.

"I want ice cream after dinner. Ratchet is being a big old meanie saying only once a week," the little blond haired girl stated. Her shoulders shifted the backpack weight, the datapads inside tilting as she moved.

"He officially ordered an ice cream social only once a week for soldiers. That does not include us," the lanky young man reminded. The barest trace of his limp remained as his heavy booted foot moved forward. The ratted length of his jean pants leg hid the black shape even as sensitive alien hearing detected the unevenness of his steps.

She giggled then grew serious for a moment. "You really should obey the rules. If you are going to be a good parent."

"Parent?" he sputtered nearly stumbling. "Where did that come from?"

"You and Mikeala are getting married and I get to be the flower girl. You are going to have kids aren't you?"

"Eventually," he stalled then both ducked, instinctively moving as the screaming metal blur loomed.

Optimus' hand snapped out automatically above them, the sharp impact on his armor barely detectable. Skids' optics spun rapidly as he hung upside down in his grip. "Ironhide, no throwing the smaller mechs," Optimus regal baritone carried the barest trace of humor.

"Yah, twins ain't balls to bounce around," the green armored mech said, lowering to the floor by his leader. He landed on his feet pads, making a fist towards the other mechs.

"Not throwing, testing the recoil on their new weapons. Ain't my problem if they forgot to check it was engaged first," the old black armored warrior grunted. Optimus turned back towards the children, noting their rapid respiration and pulse.

Sam winced, rubbing at his eyes as the glyphs flowed too quickly to identify. Breathing slowly, he relaxed and stared at a blank spot on the wall. Glyphs flowed again, slower and in richer gold tone three-dimensional detail.

"What is the funny one with the four swoops on all sides?" Annabelle's voice interrupted softly.

"Scout as designated by searching all directions yet grounded in the center with the cube shape," he replied absently then gasped as the meaning sunk in. "Hey! I know that glyph!"

"I didn't," she pouted, folding her arms and glaring. Her blue eyes reflected her mother's genetics even as her thin body and frown reflected her father.

"Wait, you can see them too?" Sam looked down at her.

"Uh huh. But I like looking at Optimus better. He's all light and ribbons," she said with a soft smile.

"I haven't seen that," he said.

She stared at him. "You see but you do not observe. The scouts say that. As Primes, we can see things as they are, not what they seem. You would know Bumblebee when he is hiding in a row of Camaro cars right? We see what they are. You look all glow in the dark because you handled the Matrix."

"Gives new meaning to keeping my eye on you," Sam joked. They both looked up as the heavy tread and hissing hydraulic like sounds warned them of his approach. Optimus knelt with a winding of gears and mechanical sounds before speaking at a level of inside voice. His red and blue flame decorated armor contrasted with their plain t-shirts and jeans.

"Are the glyphs overwhelming?" he asked.

Annabelle shook her head side to side, swinging her blond ponytail. "Nope and I see daddy coming inside. Excuse me."

Sam hesitated before answering pretending to be watching the little girl leave. His hazel eyes were dark with his emotions. "Not like the first time. I am getting use to it. Optimus, how do I look to your optics? Compared to other humans?"

The ancient leader mech formed a smile on his silver lip plates. "We are different than your race Sam and see in spectrums you have yet to discover. But yes, you register different from other humans. Any human in our care for a length of time is identifiable to other Transformers. As human Primes, you register a stronger life force. Again, you are different Sam. Your determination to revive me, not seeking the power of the ancient sun reaper Matrix yet carrying it affected you. And Annabelle is correct; you need to see me as a Prime."

The young man sighed and closed his eyes. He opened them and flinched, it was like looking into the sun. The bright light blurred his eyes before dimming to seeable levels. He gasped, not because of the sheer power or presence Optimus emanated but the way his energies wove with all the rest. Every Autobot was a part of the energy surrounding the matrix of leadership within his chest plates. 'His energy is the core they dance around,' he realized. Darkness was there too, massive gaps in the pattern.

"What are all the black spaces?" he murmured.

"Those lost under my command Sam," he vocalized softly.

"Like Jazz?"

"Yes Sam. Like Jazz," he nodded.

For a second, the memory of his ripped apart pieces at Mission City flashed across with the matching glyph as a single line highlighted. 'He was lost when offlined yet the echo of his existence remains in the space that had been his alone. The Matrix brought him back and there is a new line but there must be thousands of extinguished lines in those black gaps,' Sam grieved.

"It is the price of our war. Each remains treasured to me as long as I exist," Optimus said.

"I can handle this I think. Funny," he smiled in memory.

"What?"

"Boys growing up always wanting x-ray vision. This is neater but sadder. Least I can handle Kryptonite."

_#252 When humans ask if it is possible for them to have super powers do not respond by saying:  
_

_A) Didn't we have this discussion already regarding technology your race cannot understand or handle? Set the clock on your VCR and get back to me. _

__

B) You really do not want us around anymore is that it?

_C) Are you crazy? Messing around with evolution is never a good thing! Look where your species is now._

_D) Didn't your TV show Star Trek try to touch upon both the dangers and moral qualms about it?_

_E) Can't you wait? According to cartoons, shows, movies, and more you race will eventually evolve. You will not live long enough to see it but I may. Now what was the question again? I forgot as my memory cores are full and need upgrading again. I think._

_F) Laugh aloud saying humans with powers is a good joke._

_G) Are you sure you want one of us to experiment on you? You scream every time Ratchet corners you for a medical scan without touching your flesh._

_H) All right! I won another bet, and Sunstreaker owes me big time yet again! *Sideswipe_

_I) Sleep lightly this week. I will get even for making me lose that stupid bet! *Sunstreaker_

_J) I could try, but a few of you might end up offlining in painfully, warped ways. Even if you do not, it could take centuries to get it right, give or take a few decades. *Wheeljack_

_K) Arrggh! What is with you humans and your stupid, impractical questions!_

_L) Your questions are excessively illogical! Why would you even want to consider do...Warning! System error! Logic error! System failure! *Prowl_

_M) We are Transformers not God. How about I drive you to the commissary for ice cream and we forget this question?_

_N) Implanted parts are forbidden by the treaty but who notices a few severed limbs? (watch as human runs away screaming)_

_O ) You cannot even handle asking the opposite gender for a date, how could you handle power at our levels?_

_P ) Give it up already and go find a jar opener device. _

_Q ) No superpower helps with math homework but nice try kiddo. _

"I require your assistance," Rone began. The small green and white colored Paradron medic gestured towards closed office door. "He's been in there for days without proper energon refills or recharging."

"And?" Override asked while rolling back and forth on her feet pad wheels in the hallway. Designed for the Autobots, the large white walls and bright lights emphasized the sand treads she left on the spotless floor. "He's always in there. It is his job as Second in Command. If he redlines it's no energon off my lines."

"As acting Chief Medical Officer it is my duty and responsibility to see every bot gets proper care. Even if they are unwilling to provide it themselves. Ratchet left me very specific instructions on this one," she pulled a datapad from subspace.

"And you need me why? Ratchet is returning with Moonracer in two earth days. Or show Mister I forgot the rest of the galaxy exists those orders," Override spun in a tight circle on her tires, confirming the race times on the mainland for later.

"I am not comfortable ordering him. Especially with these orders including the authority to force him," she turned the data pad towards the other femme.

"_And if that half-glitched second-in-command thinks he can either logic and/or order his way out of rest and refuel you are to use any and every mean necessary to enforce medical statues. Including but not limited to..."_

Rone flinched inwardly, equally as amazed and horrified at the string of creative threats that Ratchet offered. While she would never repeat, even to herself, the exact wording, the intent was clear. Prowl was to rest. Prowl was to recharge. Somehow, this was all her responsibility now. Primus help her!

"I can challenge his command authority but not his size if he refuses. Recharge deprivation affects reasoning protocols. The mech is larger and far more battle trained than I. He has avoided the Chief Medic and been an issue to him. What chance do I have?" she admitted to the larger black and red femme.

"I can blast his aft loose," Override's black shoulder cannon rolled and charged.

"No, to eject him from his own office if necessary or hold him down for an emergency energon rations but I don't think violence will be necessary. We need to keep this quiet and discreet," the medic hurriedly explained at the glee in the other femme's optics.

Twenty minutes later Rone sealed the white armored hatch on his leg, glaring at Override. "Was it necessary to stun and drop him like a load of thermite?" They rearranged his prone black and white form on his own recharge berth.

"He refused and I refused to let him get away with disobeying you. The hologram made it appear I was carrying human cargo boxes across the base. He's safe in his quarters. I could have activated his logic glitch but I'm sure there's rule about that somewhere," she teased. The room was neat, precise as his office, and utterly boring to the warrior femme.

"He is stable and should refuel and recharge on his own. If you will excuse me, there are two afternoon physical follow-ups scheduled," Rone stated before leaving. Override nodded, an idea already forming in her processor. Quietly, the femme covered his entire chassis with a glowing scan. A minute later, she stepped out into the hallway, a satisfied smirk on her lip plates as her holographic emitter confirmed the new settings. A digital check of the mainframe showed several Autobots in the main hangar and not one command officer among them.

"Show time," she purred.

The hangar shook with the enraged roar. "Good job Grimlock, had me shaking in my processors that time," Kup encouraged. The blue warrior moved stiffly but expertly as he continued the lesson. "Sound can create fear. Half the battle is determined in the first astro seconds. Why on Settee Four, or was it Duster Nine? I once turned an entire battle line back with a yell. Yes Prowl?"

"Rules forbid excessive noise and motion around humans," the monochromatic mech stated, tapping a footpad as though irritated.

"Excessive? Why the Seles moon had indigenous life forms that made more noise than the Dinobots. We will keep it down. Or is that not good enough?" Kup challenged, his vocal tone half joking.

"It's never good enough. I make rules no bot follows. It's for your safety not mine," he gestured up at Swoop then over at the other Dinobots.

"Me Grimlock not need safety. Me Grimlock smash!" Stomping a foot down he rattled the entire structure.

"That's it I quit! It is not worth it! Smash what you want!" The Second in Command yelled, jumping up and down. "When you see the twins tell them to check themselves into the brig. Why should I do it? I am a command officer not a hotel desk clerk! Prank and get punished. How slagging hard is that!" Grimlock ducked his muzzle, scooting backwards until his massive red and gold dinosaur shape was behind Kup. His tail swished back and forth nearly knocking Slag over in his triceratops alt mode.

"Take it easy junior," Kup advised, his blue armored hands gesturing for him to lower his vocals and calm down.

"Easy? Nothing about being in command of you is easy! Use your holograms. Be an easy rider dirt bike for all I care or the Eiffel tower, yah, be a building! I don't care what you do!" Prowl threw his arms in the air, waving his white armored hands like a surrender flag. Grimlock shuddered, laying his muzzle on the floor as Kup backed up against his gold reinforced armor.

"Where going?" Swoop asked.

"To recharge! Works for the sparklings, Hey why not me? Huh? Don't I deserve a rest after putting up with all of you? Forget everything, just recharge, drink energon and do reports. Yah, reports. Hee hee," the monochromatic officer laughed oddly, his optics dilating to different sizes as he turned. "Reports, they never go wrong, unless that slagging spell checker messes them up! My little reports, my precious reports, my precious," his voice trailed off as he walked out the main doors.

Grimlock's red optics peered out around Kup's legs. "Me think he got gear loose."

"Whole box of gears," Swoop added, leaning down from the rafters to hang upside down like a bat. His talons clenched the support bar, bringing him optic to optic with Kup. "Him scary. Me no like scary."

"Me no like, uhm," Kup sputtered, pulling free of the Dinobots. "I don't like this either. Better call for backup."

Outside of the Autobot personal quarters, Override's red and white form waved to the twins, beckoning them over. "Ready for fun tonight? Moonlight mayhem racing on the mainland? "

"Not unless you know a way to get out of evening clean-up. Prowl checks on us personally," Sunstreaker complained, his yellow armor reflecting the sunlight. "There goes my wax job."

"I don't think Prowl will be checking on much tonight. He's about to enjoy a nice long rest in med bay," she vented softly, her tone filled with compassion.

"Really? Why? What did you do?" Sideswipe got suspicious. The red mech exchanged a knowing look with his twin.

"Me? He has been ignoring himself. Flipside and I had to practically drag him out of his office, energon redlining all the way to putting off necessary recharge. But you cannot tell any bot we forced him out of his office, medical secrecy and all," she admitted.

"No secret there," Sideswipe vented. "He's known for skipping recharge and energon worse than Wheeljack. We've," he gestured as his twin and himself. "Helped Ratchet and Prime pull him out of his office before. You'd process he would learn before something goes wrong."

"You would process," she smirked. "Later mechs. Keep in comm contact when ready to leave." Her wheels moved her away with a rev of her engine.

"Ever get the feeling she knows more than she is telling?"

"Feeling? More like a full alert warning for me to flee," Sideswipe muttered.

**Story Arc – To find a Femme (pt 7)**

**Cybertron**

Fracture soared through the thinner atmosphere of Cybertron with all systems alert for an attack. Her comet shell emitted the Decepticon signal on their encoded frequency. 'Slagging both sides can fire. Autobots to take me out and the Decepticons who fire at anything in case it is an Autobot. Remove the slower ones of our side too. Fastest and strongest survive. Until I get my hands on them for firing.' She did not know whether the lack of targeting scopes relieved or irritated her. Her comet neared its entry point.

_Systems going offline one breem. Engaging automatic safeties now._

Darkness claimed her as the comet smashed into the surface, plowing a rough trench in the twisted metal surface.

_Systems online. Defensives full active. _

Her unfolding went quickly and without interference. The descent down the narrow dark tunnel into the Decepticon base stood out vividly to her after the open rolling fields of earth. Even the dim lighting of the interior contrasted with the yellow sunlight of joors before. Transforming up into her bi pedal mode, she tapped the metal shards from her feet pads.

"Report," a familiar monotone vocal instructed.

"Hello to you too," she replied turning on her tan armored feet pads.

"Megatron's location?" Soundwave asked, his blue armored square form easily seen by her enhanced vision. His red optics noted her mismatched armor without staying on any part of her form as a less controlled mech would have.

"Unknown. Here is what you want," she digitally sent the data, saving him the time of reading it directly from her processor. She did let her frustration surge to the front.

"Consult waiting," he intoned then tilted his front chest panel open. A small red cassette ejected, transforming down into a small bi pedal mech.

"Hello Rumble," she kneeled to be closer.

"Where you been? You promised to find Megatron not stay in the stars my femme," he greeted her, reaching forward and placing his red hands on her arm. His red optics stared into hers intently. "Why the tan armor? What is earth like? Good fighting? Kicked Autobot aft?"

She smiled as he paused. "Slag of a planet, no major transforms for our kind and this is a partial disguise and no, I will not show you. I found Megatron but the native inhabitants moved his frozen form. We will retrieve and free him and you will topple all the Autobots into the pit you want," Fracture smiled at her mech son.

"You need energon," he guessed, running out the doors before she could countermand him.

"Like parental mech," Soundwave intoned.

"Hah! Rumble got his processing and skills from me. The worthless other half of his coding around?" she snapped.

"Negative. Allspark search."

"Even if he found it he wouldn't know what to do with it," she muttered.

"Miss my mate," Soundwave bowed his head, his red optics shuttering.

"Flipside is safe with the Autobots. They will keep her from the battlefield until you two can meet again. Though I do not fancy you explaining to her how you can read all processors. Femmes like their privacy," she quirked an optic arch.

"Reveal truth."

"I doubt with your size and personality getting the truth from any prisoner would be an issue. Easy to tell whom your enemies are at least." The doors swished open behind them and her battle computers engaged as the red hateful energy signature washed over her.

"Where is Megatron?" A reedy high-pitched mech vocal demanded.

"On earth Starscream. Nice planet, you should visit. Get right along with the natives," she glared over her shoulder plates rather than face him as a commanding officer. The insult was minor but deliberate.

"My presence is required here. The Fallen wants to raise a new army," he announced as though it was his destiny. He strutted forward, his upper body held erect almost pushing forward. His silver armor displayed neither ding nor scratch.

"Did energon start dripping from the outer moons? Last I looked, we needed more to keep ourselves functioning. Or did you finally discover a way to minimize fuel consumption the way you minimize your processing power?" she challenged.

"The Fallen has a plan," Starscream hissed.

"Like what? Surviving another millennia? He is in a rut. And you know what a rut is? A grave with the ends kicked out. Nothing has changed since Megatron left to capture the Allspark! You can't even defeat the pitiful few Autobots that remain on Cybertron after Prime left with his top officers!"

"What's a grave?" Soundwave questioned.

"End kicked out of what?" Starscream optics dimmed as he searched for the meaning of the earth word.

"It's irrelevant. Need me then comm," Fracture snarled turning and stomping out the main door. Her seismic boots rattled the floor as she moved disrupting the other bots systems, causing them to sway and nearly topple. By the time she reached the next hallway her defenses reverted and her steps echoed metal on metal without shaking. Rumble ran up to her holding an energon cube in both arms. Two femmes followed him, their energy signatures identifiable and welcome.

"What have I missed?" she accepted the cube drinking it down.

"The Autobot femmes still exist," the silver and purple femme announced.

"Never thought they didn't Crasher," she vented. Rumble gestured he needed to go and she nodded, watching his small red and black armored shape run down the hallway out of sight.

"Surprise to Shockwave. Raided one of his energon supplies and showed up in numbers. Hence the grand new plan," Nightracer said. Something about her vocal tone, the way she narrowed her red optics displayed her inner agitation.

"Which is?" Fracture prodded verbally before draining the cube.

"Breed a new army by forcing sparks into splits to create multiples. Yes," she turned her black armored hand upward in the Cybertronian gesture of rising. "We femmes are ordered to breed. One set of mechanically forced merges to reap multiple sparks then help capture the unmated Autobot femmes. Use them, after adjusting their basic coding, to continuously spark. The lucky ones are the mated femmes as they get offlined immediately."

Her jaw gears dropped down. She could not help it. "Spawn an army using reprogrammed enslaved femmes? Take sparklings and force jack them into combat shells to throw away like used parts? Megatron would never allow such abominations!" The metal walls reverberated with her angry tone.

"Megatron isn't here, the Fallen is, as in the former Prime who killed other Primes and ordered the extermination of any who would not bow before him? His processing and no Megatron to stop his madness like before. We agree it's a bad idea but Starscream is in charge," the Decepticon sniper reminded.

Her optics blazed with hatred. 'I will not allow myself to be medically forced to breed even once. I am a Decepticon regardless of the color of my spark and not a tool for them to bend. My Rumble is a fighter not a shell to be wasted in battle or starve waiting for energon to appear like a human crop in dry dusty soil,' she processed.

"We have a plan and inside help. Megatron kept us at bases all over the planet and the outer moons. Starscream demanded we return to one place."

"To make us a target," Nightracer spat.

"Our skills require us to spread out again," Crasher chuckled with a nasty edge to the sound. Her ever-present battle mask hid her lip plates.

"Even the humans understand the stupidity of that with their phrase "don't keep all your eggs in one basket," Fracture crumpled the empty energon cube in her fist.

"What's an egg?"

"What's a basket?"

"Earth terms. Which is where I am returning. Megatron must be found to stop this. We do not need an army we need a plan. The Autobots had superior numbers for most the war and Decepticon forces razed Praxus and overran Iacon. It is time for the Fallen to fall flat on his faceplates. Stay safe my sisters. Take the spark of any who dare enslave us, Autobot or Decepticon."

They both pulled to attention at the commanding tone of her vocals. "I leave on the moonrise. Until then, bring me current on other events please."

Three joors later, her tan and black chassis was folding down as the metal comet shell encased around. The force of her launch never registered as programming ran all possibilities of finding Megatron on earth. 'Time to force the Fallen's spark,' she purposed. A Cybertronian transmission signal went out among the stars.

"_**The Allspark located on a new world called Earth. Planet unknown at these coordinates."**_

The signal bore neither Autobot nor Decepticon signatures, only the basic glyphs of the middle language used most commonly by the scouts. It pulsed slowly through space carrying on the solar winds. Years later an orbiting transmission relay picked it up, passing in onward towards a distant galaxy to reach not one but two Cybertron teams. Optimus Prime held hope and sent his youngest but most trusted scout to confirm. The Decepticon scout Barricade snarled at the thought of searching instead of fighting but transited through the spacebridge to a moon circling the ringed planet. He coasted through the galaxy to the red planet after detecting a pulsing signal only to find a primitive metal device. A single strike of his fist smashed the NASA Mars rover before he launched for the next planet, a blue green water world.

_To be continued..._


	18. Chapter 18 Movie night anything good ?

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. For Rule #259 I pulled real life reviews for the critic quotes, they are not mine. Do not yell at me. I liked Monsters vs. Aliens and several others the critics did not. Including one I really liked called "_Revenge of the Fallen."_ Transformers 3 is filming ! Revealed so far is it focuses more on Cybertron history. Then on earth the battle will be more terrible. Wah! Skids and Mudflap are off the movie list too.

Who is the parental mech of Rumble? No idea. Official history of TF says Soundwave is not the father without naming who is. I have updated my profile page here on fan fic with more links and please let me know if I missed a story link. In addition, check out my other fics for more fun and updates on them like Elita's Revenge when you need a smile or an ahh moment. Onward to dealing with family and the entanglements therein.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

"_A true warrior fights the war that is external without losing the war within that threatens to claim one's spark with violence." Femme Prime Mesayon_

Prowl regarded his fellow mech without the usual sternness of his command position. Seated opposite each other in his office, he felt little protection with the massive desk between them. His white armored finger tapped the datapad report. "Two more points on your psychological aggressiveness test Ironhide, and you'd be removed from a command position, your weapons disarmed."

"That test is private. How the slag do you know my score?" his deep blue optics narrowed as his arms shifted straight on the chair arms. The cannons remained offline even as their base power cores charged.

"I know because you tested too high for aggression, almost baseline Decepticon in your attitudes and beliefs. I had to sign off on it to keep you out of medical and on the battlefield. The test results are currently unavailable to any other command staff, Prime included."

"You lost it?" The metal chair creaked with his mass as he shifted to lean on the desk edge.

"More filed in a mislabeled location, as the humans would say," he admitted.

"Why?"

"The reviews are mandatory for any extended change in status, in this instance the shelling of your second sparkling. Personally," Prowl closed the datapad while maintaining a neutral expression on his faceplates. Only the slight dropping of his wing doors betrayed his emotions. "I believe a certain protective attitude is beneficial for a parental mech. And there are three other contributing factors I factored in with the assessment score."

"Ratchet with his medical overrides, Prime with his rifle and being stuck on earth?"

"No," the black and white security officer vented. "First is Chromia and the second is Annabelle. If you ever step out of line, you will have to face Annabelle and explain to her what happened. That is if," Prowl formed a rare smirk on his lip plates. "Chromia leaves enough of you to be reassembled to leave med bay."

"I'm scared of losing control myself. How can you be sure they are enough?" Deep blue optics focused on him like a drowning mech on his only lifeline.

"Do you know what the third factor is? The way you look at your sparkling Ramiel. It took one time of seeing him in your armored hands to know how you truly felt. You thought no one else was present."

"You monitored us!" Ironhide protested, leaning back in the chair.

"Safety and security is my job as well as tactics and strategy for our entire team. Every spark is precious with the Allspark dormant. I had to be sure of your commitment. And you have nine point four five breems to reach medical bay for your next sparkling's scheduled arrival."

"Humph, you going to watch me with her too?" he grumbled, rising to his feet pads.

"Unnecessary. And I have other matters to attend to," his optics spin tighter even as the upward tilt of his door wings showed his irritation.

"Say hi to the twins for me," Ironhide called out as he passed though the security office door.

Ten minutes later Prowl regarded the twins with what humans would called an icy glare. Cornered by the maintenance shed, they had relative privacy from the humans. The use of their native language further insured their privacy. "I will ask this one time Sunstreaker, Sideswipe. Did you pretend to be me?"

"NO!" they both yelled.

Prowl's fast moving optics and systems detected the reflection of humor in Sunstreaker's vocal tone, the way his optics rolled upward and his stance altered to favor the right footpad. His twin was another matter. Sideswipe's battle systems registered as nearly activating. Energon use increased, his optics brightened, as his frame seemed to sink in on itself as his subspace pullers charged into readiness.

Prowl vented before taking a step towards him. "Not convincing Sideswipe. You have lied before to protect your own aft or your twin's."

The red armored mech sputtered, rolling back and forth on his foot wheels. "I'm not and I didn't! Quit blaming us for things not ours! The ninja clowns at the guards posts, turning your office into a beach scene complete with a live shark in a force field instead of your desk and.."

"None of that was proven but certainly bore all the tell tale signs your mischief," Prowl challenged. His stance became less defiant as probabilities began to shift towards the twin's innocence. Good pranks they tried to hide, great pranks they bragged about, not protested.

"We'd have used an octopus! Sharks are an endangered species," Sideswipe said.

"And cliché. Our pranks are more creative than that," Sunstreaker protested.

"Here, see for yourself," Sideswipe offered his arm out, the hatch popping open on his data cable.

"Link in," Sunstreaker copied the motion, releasing his wrist data cable connection.

Prowl considered, running safety routines to steady his processors. 'A link? I could know all their pranks and what they are planning' warred with the threatening trip of his logic glitch.' Do I want to know the rest if they are innocent of this one?' He hesitated then made his decision. "I will accept your word this time. Same as I would the other Autobots." He turned and headed for his office, rubbing at his helm and the neuron ache.

::What if he asks if we know who did?:: Sunstreaker sent to his twin on their twin link.

::We tell the truth. Even if he will not believe us. I am not scared of her:: Sideswipe

::I'm beginning to be. She's taking the best ideas before we can do them:: Sunstreaker

In the main communications hangar across the base, Prowl completed his report to Prime. "The twins are not responsible for the pranks but I was unable to determine the culprit at this time. I will continue my efforts."

"I understand," Optimus said then frowned as Prowl twitched, his wing doors falling and rising as his optics flashed.

"The twins are not responsible for the pranks but I was unable to determine the culprit at this time. I will continue my efforts," he reported.

"You just told me that," he said.

"No I didn't. You requested the report status and I..." he trailed off, twitching and optics flaring. "The twins are not responsible for the pranks but I was unable to determine the culprit at this time. I will continue my efforts."

"Prowl, this is an order. File the reports as undetermined and check in with Ratchet following Chromia's and Ironhide's visit. I want no distractions before then," the ancient Prime ordered moving closer to stand by his friend.

"I don't understand. The twins are not responsible mmpf," he stopped as one silver armored hand gently wrapped around his faceplates. It withdrew as Optimus tilted forward to lean in optic to optic.

"File the report away and continue your duties. These orders are non-discretionary and I am locking them in the database now. Any problems?" His regal baritone was firm.

"No sir, I always follow orders and you did request that I determine who mmpf," the large silver armored hand returned to wrap around his faceplates.

"Not one word Prowl. Check in with med bay later. Your office. Your work, now," Prime ordered. He watched as the mech shuttered his optics and tried to nod a yes answer before removing his hand. The second in command marched out the doors without a word as humans continued their duties, ignoring them both.

Once past the building, Prowl's image shifted to a thousand points of light before revealing Override standing in her bi pedal mode. The stocky silver and red armored femme confirmed visually no one saw her change. "Scanning Prowl is one of my best ideas yet. And the fun is just beginning. By the time I'm done around here, I'll need a nice long stay in the brig to rest."

_259. Do not confuse the fantasy worlds of human television, movies and online role-playing with the reality of the human world. _

Mikeala sighed, pushing a strand of long dark hair out of her face absently. "Yes?" she asked, glancing over at her fiancée.

"Admiring the view," Sam smirked. He leaned on the table end, one hand propped under his chin as he watched. The table was human sized even as it rested next to the foot of the recharge berth sized for Bumblebee in his quarters.

"Look but don't touch, you ain't my type," Wheelie warned, flipping optics his way. Scowling, the human boy snapped his fingers at the little blue mech. He rolled closer to Mikeala. "Oh I'm scared. Megatron recharging is fiercer."

"I fried Megatron and I can get you," Sam warned, lunging forward before yelping. "Owww! Mikeala!" He struggled, his arm trapped as her hand pinned it down.

"Sam you're a Prime and part of the Autobots now. You're supposed to use self control and set an example!" she hissed, releasing his arm. He rubbed at the reddening skin.

Bumblebee instantly crooned, pulling Sam towards him while sliding his other armored hand to keep Mikeala at bay. "_Why can't we all get along_?" sound clip played.

"How about helping? I cannot find anything decent for movie night this week and that is task we were assigned and promised to do," she pointed at the laptop screen.

"I thought the site advertised over a million movies to rent? Too many choices?" Sam peered through yellow armored fingers.

"Not enough," she sighed, scooting the laptop over to the edge of the table. "They have to fit the rules."

"Are you kidding? Prowl made rules for movie night?" His hazel eyes went wide in disbelief.

"Not directly," she waved a hand in the air. "Officially, no stalking human personnel after a horror fest. Unofficially no picking a movie like aliens that are bad or robots dumb or only destructive characters."

He thought for a moment before replying. "Never thought of that. Bumblebee watches anything and I mean anything. Not porn, he won't watch that," he corrected hastily, glancing up and smiling. The bot released him to hide his blue optics behind his hands and shake his helm side to side. "Eeeeewwwww like gross!" girl's voice played from his speakers. Sam grinned and took his seat back by her side, opposite from where Wheelie stood on the table.

"How about Terminator Salvation? Good special effects," he pointed at the top of the list.

"Optimus banned all Terminator movies from movie night, only viewable on the Autobots own time if at all. The machines are the bad guys remember? Super computer goes sentient and tries to wipe out humankind? They take it personal," Mikeala winked at him.

"Oh, I didn't think about that."

"What? Your slagging race ain't the only one in creation," he reminded, gesturing at Bee and himself.

"How about Planet 51 then? Human lands on alien planet?" Sam asked.

"_Directionless, __recycled feel of a script by committee. __The aliens are imprisoned in a cruddy, reductive sitcom and forced to spout inane dialogue. It offers a few laughs for the kids, and adults too, but the jokes are often vulgar in nature_," Bumblebee quoted critic reviews.

"Vulgar? Might be worth seeing," Wheelie said.

"Monsters vs. Aliens? Mom rented that last week. Liked the Susan character," he suggested.

"No." Mikeala counted off reasons. "One - Giant robot is the bad guy, is destroyed and sunk into the ocean. Two - the monsters are morphed humans or other creatures meaning Ratchet would not approve and the smartest scientist is a mad blow them up type. Three - they would want to watch the original movies. You want to see all the Blob movies? Attack of the fifty foot woman, Creature from the Black Lagoon and explain the old black and white film, the clichés from those time periods?"

"Good point." he agreed. "How about 2012? I heard it is a kicking disaster flick."

"They wipe out most of the world's population Sam. It reminds the Transformers of Cybertron's near total destruction, Red Alert gets worried about natural disasters and all the human deaths remind them how short lived our species is. Do you remember the TV movie 10.5 Mega Quake? Next battle where Rumble appeared they all tackled him, afraid of triggering real earthquakes. The seekers stood there untouched watching. Probably thought the Autobots had all glitched to attack only him. Save that movie for you and me to cuddle up with," she purred, leaning over to kiss him.

"G rated! G rated!" Wheelie yelled, covering his optics with his hands while Bumblebee wolf whistled.

"Funny guys. Once we're married it won't change," Mikeala teased.

"Ha! If he cheats or hurts you, you will hire a hit man. Save yourself the money. Call me and I'll do it for free," Wheelie suggested.

"Who needs to hire a hit man? I'll do it myself if he cheats," she rubbed the little mech's blue helm gently.

"Moving onward," Sam interrupted, tugging at his t-shirt collar. "How about the latest Sherlock Holmes?"

"Sounds good," Mikeala clicked the icon, adding it to the digital shopping cart. "Three spots left to fill."

"Twilight New Moon?"

"Unstable genetics again which Ratchet protests every time. Mudflap and Skids like all horror scary movies imitating them and they do not need any more ideas. Optimus and the other command officers get bored with human romances," she reminded.

"And Ironhide runs screaming from romance movies," he chuckled, running a hand through his brown hair.

"_The movie's a drag, paced like a dirge and cursed with dialogue and a goopy musical score that bring out the book's worst daytime soap tendencies. If you fixate on funny things like plot and character too bad_," Bumblebee played more critic reviews.

"Sponge Bob?"

"Automatic given," a click of the mouse added the movie to the list.

"But it mentions stuff we can't in the other movies," Sam protested.

"I know. Hound thinks the animated unreality of it allows them to watch and find it funny. That is two movies. Two to go," she noted.

"No human romances, no aliens that are not the good guys, no robots and no monsters sheesh. This is hard," he grumbled.

"Alvin and the Chipmunks?" she suggested.

"NO!" three males voices yelled.

"Time Traveler's Wife?" she tapped the screen.

"Wheeljack wanting to experiment with time travel? Not a good idea. Flowers still fall out of the sky at random from his attempts at copying Skywarp's teleporting."

"Quit picking on him Sam!" she snapped. "His inventions, upgrades and parts keep the Transformers running. He designed your flexible boot brace. He modifies what Ratchet can't repair."

"The hurt locker, now live and personal," Wheelie said as they glared at each other.

Bumblebee whistled, playing a TV show clip. "_Message from Star Fleet Captain." _The laptop flashed, changing to Ratchet standing in med bay. His yellow green armored face filled the screen.

"Chromia is scheduled to deliver her sparkling Darkstar in two breems and requests your presence Sam as the human Prime. Do your still want to watch? Or do you need time to mate? I am unable to determine your pheromones at this distance."

"Must you mention that every time?" Sam groaned.

"We'll be there," Mikeala promised.

**Story Arc – To find a Femme (pt 7)**

**Earth – Modern day**

::Fracture to Starscream. Another dead end:: Fracture sent, grinding her jaw gears together. The tan and brown armored femme scowled, shaking sand out of her wrist connection.

::Dead End? You were supposed to find Kia Witwicky there in Japan, not that processor cracked soldier. He is supposed to be on Cybertron!:: Starscream

The ancient femme resisting the urge to swear, rip up the gardens she stood in or tell Starscream how he could retrofit one of his after burners. :: Kia Witwicky is offline without any known contact to the Allspark. Therefore, it is a dead end as in a situation from which there seems no escape or ability to move forward:: Fracture sent while processing, 'like being under your command.'

::Then move to your next target Ronald Witwicky in the United States. You might try to retrieve him as you failed to retrieve Megatron:: Starscream cut the comm line with a hiss of static.

She glanced down at the pattern in the main sand square with satisfaction. The Decepticon glyphs for her name, parental femme of Rumble, wove in and out of the rocks instead of the circles that had been there. The bonsai trees flattened under her squared feet pads remained crushed as she moved away. 'I failed to retrieve Megatron while Starscream was cowering in his lab on Cybertron producing horrors our ancestors fought to free us from under the Quintessons. Then he comes here to lead our search teams. Some search. Chasing down a list of humans descended from an explorer named Witwicky.'

The Decepticon femme was halfway across the ocean, hidden inside a freight container when Starscream's call for Decepticon forces to immobilize flashed across her optics. When Megatron's signal activated across her sensor net, her spark nearly exploded with joy. Then it vanished breems later to her puzzlement. At a loss of where to go, she joined Barricade in the Nevada desert.

"Now what?" he asked, his tone flat and devoid of emotion. The setting sun cast his shadow on the rock wall contrasting its black on the orange red rocks.

"We are online. We continue," the femme stated, her bi pedal form straight in the fading light.

"How? The Allspark is destroyed."

"Unless Cybertron vanished we have a home world. I am not going to roll over for any Autobot. Prime held a shard in his hand. I say we take it from his shattered chassis," Fracture's red optics blazed.

"I knew Cybertron would offline when I saw the Allspark jettisoned into space. We failed to capture it and we failed Megatron."

"We failed to be Decepticons. Respect no one but your own mastery. Master those around you, crush the weak and destroy the unfit. Take what you need, keep what you want and throw the rest away. I am proud, I yield to no bot for I am a Decepticon. Remember swearing those words?"

"Yes," his red optics focused on hers.

"Then live them. Imagine that human fleshing boy impaled on your claws," she suggested.

"No way! He has been nothing but trouble. His guardian is not worth tangling with. He will offline like the rest of his species before my next memory core fills. If we stay here, I want to know more of these creatures," Barricade rose to his black feet pads and braced.

"I want a decent alt mode. I've yet to find it," she grumbled, stamping a foot to send vibrations shaking throughout the rock valley.

"Then search the world over, there must be one suitable," he suggested as the last rays of the sun disappeared from their sensors.

Two years later found them both in Europe, trans scanning a racecar. The television above the stands changed to show the Fallen. "...the human hive.."

::What is he doing here?:: Fracture sent.

::Revealing our existence!:: Barricade answered in shock.

::Signal relay is Egypt. Be a full earth day to reach them. We better get going. Finally find an alt mode and it is useless in the one place our leaders want to fight in:: Fracture sent, turning her engine over. The red and black closed-canopy Formula racer concept car pulled out of the car exhibits rows, followed closely by an American Saleen S281 Police Cruiser.

Traveling, the fight began and ended before they reached the Egyptian border. "Megatron survives. We survive and The Fallen is offline. Soundwave wants us in the Italian Republic," Fracture summed up their situation.

"Why?"

"The NATO Defence College is headquartered in Rome. It is the focal military point of contact within NATO for the consortium, composed of three hundred organizations in forty six countries. We're to upload a program from Soundwave to link their systems to his. Imaging the information we can control, change or disburse."

_To be continued..._


	19. Chapter 19 Words alone are not enough

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Thanks to gatekat for Prowl having to deal with rule variations for air, sea and land based Transformers. Thanks to ladyofdarkstar for the idea of the Transformers pulling weapons in teasing and humans not hearing the internal conversation beforehand.

As a reminder, please be careful when reading in public places including but not limited to buses, coffee shops, libraries, doctor offices (unless a psychiatrist's) and in front of husband or wife when they think you are doing "work" on the family computer. Onward on words alone being not enough.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

_254. Do not limit your self-expression to the habits of our race. Adapt and become familiar with human gestures, movements and facial movements without losing our own unique culture._

"Which one is the leader?" The man asked, wiping his eyeglasses on the edge of his brown three-piece suit. From his plain leather shoes to his plain briefcase, his very mannerisms defined him as a government official even as his continual "how much did that cost?" questions identified him as a budget analyst.

"The big mech with red on his armor," Major Lennox reminded, even as he continued examining the budget report. His blue eyes crossed for a second as he held the pile up with both hands before his face. "How many pages is this? One sequoia or two redwoods?"

"It is a proposal and expected to be trimmed down during the consecutive meetings," the budget advisor reminded. The three men accompanying him nodded at the same time like bobble head figures. Dressed in the same dark three piece suits, they sat at the table added for their use, a vivid reminder of a military budget overseen by non-military personnel.

"Any larger and a chainsaw couldn't shred that pile of…" Master Sergeant Epps began. Deep, roaring engines drone out his next words as the Autobots arrived. Sounds of transformation were a relief to Will and Epps even as the man gasped, eyes going wide.

Epps rolled his eyes towards the mechs and Will turned to look. "Oh, the big big red, white and blue mech is Ultra Magnus the smaller red armored mech is Optimus Prime, their leader."

"Smaller? That's smaller?" he squeaked.

"Major Lennox, Master Sergeant Epps," Optimus acknowledged in his regal baritone.

"Hey Optimus, Magnus. Where's Ironhide?" Will greeted them.

"Spark sitting the little ones. He will follow shortly," Ultra Magnus spoke first, shifting with a hiss of hydraulics and gears to see the man better as he recoiled back.

"My daughter and Ironhide's son," Will clarified before settling into the chair with a sigh. "The others will roll in and the fun will begin." Hours later, he felt like crying as he watched the Transformers with a feeling of jealousy. 'I know they are talking on internal comms. They can recharge with their optics open and systems on standby even. Not fair,' he thought, filling his coffee cup again.

"Page 254, in conclusion the exterior guard base gates will be repainted and the light bulbs replaced without adding any new light fixtures," the budget advisor concluded.

::And to think I cleared my schedule for this:: Ratchet grumped. His blue optics were nearly dim with his half-recharging state. Medical repairs and upgrades were in the last third of the proposed budget and they were still in the first third. Only Optimus' orders for each officer to attend for their relevant section kept him in place.

"Research and Development is next," the man flipped the pages. Wheeljack perked up, his sidebars flashing light blue and green with interest.

"What is the status of the last project?" the Autobot civilian scientist asked.

"There have been a few setbacks," the first assistant said.

:: Translated they lost the device, the building and half their work crew:: Prowl sent. His attention barely remained on the hangar discussions while reviewing rules, battle plans and tactics.

"A number of different approaches are being suggested to overcome perceived difficulties with the design," the second assistant continued.

::Still grasping at energon straws and clueless on how to read the blueprints:: Jazz suggested. His battle visor remained retracted, showing dim blue optics. Only the occasional tapping of his footpad demonstrated the music collection he listened to internally.

"We welcome critique and suggestions that are within the budget," the advisor tapped the thick pile of papers in front of him.

"Spread the responsibility for mistakes and have someone new to blame," Will muttered under his breath. Acute alien hearing caught every syllable clearly.

::I agree. The budget official lacks the training and personality to be a commander. Tough choices and decisions are ordered, not suggested based on financial considerations or the use of others to escape personal responsibility:: Optimus stated.

::Is that why you always ignore the suggestions of us lowly mechs?::Ultra Magnus sent, pointing a stubby metal finger at him.

::I will remember that next time you suggest I introduce you to an unmated femme using my friendship to impress her:: Optimus teased, crossing both arms to face his direction.

::Can you introduce me to one then?:: Bumblebee sent then vented, feeling his faceplates heat.

::When one is worthy of your spark:: Optimus tilted his armored helm towards the young scout.

::How many femmes you process we have left Prime?:: Ultra Magnus reminded him on the secondary command frequency between them alone.

::Is there a problem with him and a femme?:: Optimus challenged. His entire stance shifted from waiting to a pre battle stance.

::You finding one worthy of him. He is a hero after Tyger Pax and you are protective of him as your own sparkling Pyxis. I am not sure you can make that choice:: Ultra Magnus faced him directly, his chassis adjustments mirroring the other bots.

::Your point Commander?:: Optimus challenged. The other Autobot's gauged the safest place for cover and to secure the humans should their two largest get rowdy.

::I think being Prime has confused you with being Primus. Matters of the spark are between those spark bound. Who are you to make life-altering choices for our youngest?:: Ultra Magnus took a step forward.

::Better that than refusing to lead, hiding behind the defense, 'I am only a soldier.'::Optimus flexed his stubby metal fingers

Both moved in a blur, rifles snapping into their hands and charging. Rising to chest height, both weapons hovered above the other's sparks without moving.

::Ahem, if you younglings are done, the humans are staring and their vital signals are bordering on outright panic:: Ratchet interrupted. Both of his yellow green armored hands were tapping his hip plates, the wrenches an astro second from slipping into his palms.

Both large mechs chuckled, returning their weapons to subspace.

::Slow there Prime, I raised mine faster:: Ultra Magnus

::Mine carries a bigger blast with better aim:: Optimus retorted.

::In your recharge dreams:: Ultra Magnus

::Better dreams than fantasies:: Optimus vented haughtily.

"They're teasing. Relax, they are brothers and alien robots. That is their version of sibling rivalry. You did read the reports on Transformer relationships and misconceptions?" Will asked, gesturing for the government officials to come out from under their table and sit back down.

"I'm new to this position and must have missed that one," the budget advisor admitted, his hand shaking enough to slosh the water out of the glass as he attempted to drink.

::The last person left for a real job:: Ratchet sent first.

::I am the tenth in this position and number eleven will be worse:: Ultra Magnus continued.

::I knew there was a reason the position was open with a ridiculous government salary:: Bumblebee added.

_#265. Do not forget a rule is a prescribed guide for conduct or action and cannot cover every possibility or event. _

Prowl regarded the human memo with a sense of foreboding. His white armored fingers held the fragile tiny piece of paper as his optics scanned every word. Soundproof, the quiet of his office provided no distractions or answers.

"_Please add a rule regarding keeping safe distances from vehicles controlled by humans. Transformers are not hurt in low speed crashes but the budget liaison is threatening to refuse all requests for bumper repairs on human vehicles. This would send the safety manager into a heart attack. I have enough to deal with and would appreciate any help, Major Will Lennox._

"As a safety officer, that human should have known not to touch alien technology, regardless of the size. The twins are not required to label a mini bot subspace puller with "Danger" in the human language." His blue optics spun lightly as memory cores replayed the scene.

"The use of actual water on a holographic fire was unnecessary, a waste of your planet's natural resources and created a situation where," he stopped at the faint popping sound. Systems registered the sudden absence of the human. Optics scanned the desktop and surrounding area rapidly. The faintest hum of the metal square sitting on top of the twin's box of confiscated items alerted him.

"Pit!" he swore, triggering the device. Another popping sound and the prone human form dumped onto his desk. A medical scan confirmed he still breathed and his heart beat though slower. One white metal armored finger prodded the body.

"It was unforeseen he would require fourteen breems to recover without full memory of what happened. If your species cannot withstand trans dimensional travels then refrain from engaging subspace pullers."

The blinking cursor on his datapad drew his attention back to the present and the rules request.

"How to word it," his fingers tapped in rhythm on the desktop. "_Keep a minimum safe distance. _No, what is minimum? If I assign a distance, it is relevant. Ten quads when standing still is sufficient. However, traveling at racing speeds could cover that in an astro second, through said vehicle and past it. _Use your best judgment_?"

His processor nearly glitched, remembering past events explained by the phrase "I processed…." Blinking optics rapidly, both hands gripped the edge of the desk. "Ironhide blew up a planet that way, the twins are beyond counting and even Prime had to be retrieved from several situations he failed to comprehended the danger of. "

His optics read the request though unnecessarily as it was stored in his processors. "Air travel requires space in all three dimensions. Water travel requires similar though underwater obstacles are more a threat than humans nearby. Land travel includes human drivers, animals, weather and road conditions, on those areas with roads. Space travel is rarer but complicated by their debris fields of satellites and abandoned orbiting equipment."

"Perhaps breaking it down by danger levels?"

**_#256. You know the situation is bad when:_**

_a. The general alarms are sounding._

_b. The human safety officer swears after arriving on scene and begins rifling through large notebooks of disaster plans._

_c. Humans are running towards the scene, especially the fire and emergency crews._

_d. Red Alert or Prowl are running the opposite direction you are running._

_e. A reporter begins taking pictures._

_f. Smoke, fire or ice is expanding out of the area. _

_g. A human grabs your footpads saying "Save me please!"_

_h. Kup starts with "I've seen worse, survived worse, let me tell you about the time when…."_

_i. "Screwed" refers to nuts, bolts and gear replacement on your chassis by the medics in med bay._

_j. Ratchet is not happy and throwing wrenches._

_k. Sam or Mikeala is injured._

_l. A human is in charge of the situation and giving commands._

_m. You realize you will need to find new quarters to recharge in tomorrow. _

_n. You process about finding a mate and having a sparkling once things settle down._

_o. You feel you should have paid more attention on career day. _

_p. You get a human ticket for speeding and running a red light in your bi pedal mode._

_q. They covered this in the disaster preparedness class, theory section._

_r. You lost a bet with the twins that this could happen. _

_s. Your first processing is "This is going to leave a mark."_

_t. This event is going to make a comic book series or graphic novel. _

_u. You need energon after this. _

**_#257. You know it is really bad when: _**

_a. All the alarms are sounding - general, battle, proximity, fire, water flow, and evacuate._

_b. The human safety officer goes pale, faints or runs in circles screaming._

_c. Human are running everywhere and diving in everything they can fit into._

_d. Wheeljack runs by you yelling, "This is going to be bad!"_

_e. A news crew is filming you live for the entire world to see._

_f. Lava, a giant wall of ice or the entire island is sinking or is coming closer and it starts to rain. _

_g. A fellow Autobot grabs your feet pads saying, "Don't leave me behind!"_

_h. Kup starts with "This reminds me of the time the planet Krushtar blew up."_

_i. "Screwed" refers to the pressure cap installed on the exploding mountain, gas pipe or oil rig. _

_j. Ratchet swears and says, "I don't have enough tools for this."_

_k. Sam or Mikeala is offline. _

_l. A Dinobot is in charge of the situation and trying to think of a command to give. _

_m. You realize you will need to find a new base or city to recharge in tomorrow. _

_n. You are going to find a mate and having a batch of sparklings and growing ancient together somewhere a lot more peaceful._

_o. You realize you should have paid more attention on the target range._

_p. Your tickets for violating rules and regulations on human roadways set a record._

_q. You are pretty sure this situation was covered in a human's nightmare scenario of things to go wrong._

_r. You make a bet on the sequence of events being impossible to duplicate. Ever._

_s. Your first processing is "This is slagging going to hurt!"_

_t. This is going to be made into a movie with blockbuster special effects. _

_u. You need high grade after this. _

**_#258. You know you are slagged when: _**

_a. The only sound is a single voice counting "10…9…8….7…"_

_b. You ask, "Where is the human safety officer?" and they point towards a set of charred boots sticking out from the smoking hole._

_c. Humans are kneeling or laying down praying, crying and begging._

_d. Optimus Prime goes running by you. _

_e. The news crew is running behind Optimus Prime and the camera is off._

_f. You finally remember his name "Unicron."_

_g. A Decepticon grabs your feet pads saying, "Save me please! Don't leave me behind, have mercy!"_

_h. Kup goes "This will be a great story to tell, if we remain online long enough."_

_i. "Screwed" finally makes sense to you as a human slang term for unfortunate inescapable circumstances. _

_j. Ratchet is grabbing any mechs not in the main area and making them temporary medics to help. _

_k. The Matrix is offline, back to dust or left with the first person who fled. _

_l. No one is sticking around long enough to give commands except one "RUN!"_

_m. You realize you are really going to miss earth when you recharge in space tomorrow. _

_n. You hope another Transformer is left to mate with. _

_o. Who needs to pay attention to the designated exits, you just made your own through the wall, down the road and through those concrete road barriers. _

_p. Prowl has an entire rulebook dedicated to your actions and examples of what not to do. _

_q. You are sure this situation was never covered anywhere as no one would have really thought it was possible but they know it now! _

_r. You bet no one is going to believe you when you try to explain what happened. _

_s. "Joining the matrix might not be that bad, least I'll get some rest finally."_

_t. This is going to make history and you would rather have read about it than be in the middle of it. _

_u. You have had enough high grade to forget why you were drinking in the first place. _

**Story Arc – To find a Femme (pt 8)**

**Earth – Modern day**

::Are you ever going to finish uploading that program?:: Fracture sent on the Decepticon frequency, daring the humans to recognize it let alone decode it. The NATO remote installation a mile away bristled with receivers, transmitters and satellite uplinks. 'They steal our technology and keep it at a sparkling level of use,' she processed sourly.

:: Soundwave designed a large program and these files to embed the virus with are not easy to search::Barricade

::I would have processed all the time you spend searching e-bay you could find anything!:: Fracture teased.

::Can't help if I got hooked on it. Searching for ladiesman217 and the glasses started it:: Barricade answered.

::Send me the interlink into the NATO files: Fracture ordered.

::You really do not want to read these:: Barricade

::I'm parked in a abandoned fruit orchard beside a crumbling stonewall, watching mice scurry by nibbling on the fallen fruit and will blast your aft into orbit if you don't send me those files right now!:: Fracture roared.

The Decepticon femme absorbed the data and vented. In her alt mode, that translated into blowing a dark cloud of smoke out her tailpipe. "Meetings? Do these humans ever act? Meeting 234 to condemn actions of said dictator. Meeting 235 send a strongly worded message to said human. Nine more meetings, further condemning his actions, including the grabbing of NATO personnel as hostages? I thought the Autobots were bad. Amazing humans get anything accomplished."

Warnings flashed across her relay, triggered by approaching Autobots. ::Hurry it up! We got company!::

::A company? What do they make? I thought you were in an orchard?:: Barricade asked, his mental tone confused.

::Not that type of company:: Fracture sent, sorting known energy signatures to confirm which Autobots.

::A group of performing artists?:: Barricade

::No:: Fracture replied, sinking on her axles as Prime and Ironhide signatures identified.

:: A group of firefighters?:: Barricade

::No though rescue may be involved if we do not leave soon. Company as in Autobots arriving. Wait, more signals inbound. Decepticon and Autobot at the same time?:: Fracture

::Both? Not possible. Rolling now:: Barricade

::Identified. Wheelie and Flipside:: Fracture sent, engaging her automobile engine.

::They are not a threat. Slag! I got Prime on my scanners!:: Barricade

::Split up and do not engage. Meet you at the rendezvous point in Germany. Did you layer the explosives?:: Fracture rolled out of the orchard, her racecar alt mode turning nimbly onto the narrow winding road. Her holographic driver engaged, complete from striped jumpsuit to the protective racing helmet.

_To be continued…_


	20. Chapter 20 Things I have learned

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews and reading still. These last two weeks have been odd for me. My TF novelty from overseas finally arrived. Yes, the Allspark shard Sam drops in Revenge of the Fallen through the floor and into the kitchen is mine now and sits on my shelf. Apparently, it is a dud – no energy or brain boost at all. Oh well. It was listed as a replica but you can hope. My mom was sick and I spent until 3 am in the ER with her and taken care of her at home this week, hence the delay in posting. She is getting better but a slow process. Please set **story alert** in the lower left corner to get notice of new chapter postings.

Credit to Vivienne Grainger for her suggestions about a rule on squishies and thanks to ladyofdarkstar for her beta help with Sam's writing assignment. New POLL on my profile page regarding upcoming story arcs. Please vote. Onward to taking our life experiences and condensing it down to words.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

_260. Do not forget the lessons learned through experience and the friendship between our species. However trying friendship with the humans may be._

"You a Prime or air pump Sam? You're venting like Ironhide on the endurance course last lap. Can hear you over the wind," Wheelie commented, swiveling his blue optics towards the human sitting at the table he rested on. His wheels marks showed across its surface back and forth around the pizza boxes , nachos, potato chips and soda pop cans. The three humans and two mechs sat alone in the Autobot recreation room, free of any duties until the hurricane passed over the NEST base.

"My summer writing assignment for my online psychology and sociology course!" the young man pointed at the open notebook as if it should have been obvious. "I have to list ten things I learned the hard way that affected either my cognitive or personal behavior. Since we can't go outside in this weather, I thought it was about time I got started on it."

"Meaning it's due tomorrow. And no explaining a super secret military base or Autobots?" Mikeala commented, her game controller also on standby.

"That's a given. My professor doesn't believe in aliens. No offense 'Bee," he hastily added, glancing over at his guardian. The young scout whistled, patting the top of Sam's head lightly with his armored hand.

"Not my problem if your race can't handle the truth," the little blue mech shrugged, hitting the resume button on his game controller. "My level five fire winged winged gryphon will reach the treasure chamber first."

"Not if my level four elf princess uses her light wand on the maze wall," Mikeala challenged back.

Bumblebee hummed, peering down at the list on the table before playing laughing soundclips. They all glanced up at the same time as the hangar roof rattled with the high winds before looking back and moving closer to each other.

"Can I hear the list?" Annabelle asked, leaning around Wheelie.

"Okay, but it's a rough draft so far," Sam began reading.

_1. Possums have teeth._

_2. Doorbells are electrified. _

_3. Toasters and screwdrivers do not mix. _

_4. Never open or activate anything a Twin hands you. _

_5. Running for your life is a very valuable skill. _

_6. Don't try the parking brake while going down the road._

_7. Cakes from the bakery are easy to drop, especially birthday cakes. _

_8. Airport security has no sense of humor. _

"Then next should be never wake a recharging Transformer with water balloons but I can't list it," he commented.

"You didn't! Poor 'Bee," Mikeala smiled, imagining the yellow Camaro waking to find Sam and water everywhere.

"No, poor me! 'Bee retaliated the next morning, creating the next rule I can list."

_9. The fire department knowing your address is not something to brag about. _

Annabelle giggled. "How about tanks squish spiders really well?"

"Those were armored personal carriers and since I've never seen any in our parking lot at college or home, I can't mention them," Sam said.

"How about Ironhide and Chromia can make sparklings more than Optimus and Elita?" she said in all innocence.

Wheelie snickered while Sam's face reddened. "Sparklings are uh…that is…confidential. Could get me in trouble."

"Trouble like the twins getting caught for a prank or trouble like that old meanie Soundwave messing with my datapads!" The little girl crossed her arms and curled her lip.

"Still upset about that huh?" he asked.

"It's not fair!" Her voice raised as both hands raised in the air, waving around. "I put Prowl's wings back to normal and he still has my datapads. He's getting even with me."

"Revenge is not logical and he would not keep them to be mean. Optimus would not allow it," Sam reminded.

"I know," she admitted with a heavy sigh. "He said I'm too smart for my age. Thinks I need human lessons but school is boring! Mom says it is good I already know all that and still I have to attend school. I can't tell my teachers how much I know. And dad is too busy to help."

"If you're so smart, how come you ain't figured a way to steal your datapads back?" the mech asked.

"Wheelie!"

"Stealing is wrong, though Daddy says "borrowing" is okay," her expression grew thoughtful.

"Hope for you yet kiddo," Wheelie bobbed his optics to make her laugh then subspace a lollypop.

"See? He is nice and Prowl made a rule I cannot have candy from the soldiers or other Autobots." She said, unwrapping the candy and eating it.

"Smile Annabelle," Sam ordered. "Yes, your teeth are all there. Won't be if you keep eating candy."

"I brush my teeth and go to the dentist," she replied, sticking her blue and red colored tongue at him.

The air swirled around them, rustling the papers as the outer door opened, followed by heavy treads, metal and gear sounds and dripping water.

"Where did you get that? It's against the rules," Ironhide kneeled by Annabelle, letting the water run down his armor and onto Wheelie. He smirked as the smaller mech moved over, shaking the drops off.

"I'm not telling," she said, handing the lollypop over into his larger grip. A flick of his black armored fingers sent it flying into the trash.

"Why not identify the mech responsible?" Prowl asked, his blue optics focused on Wheelie.

"Don't have too. I am a Prime and we have to keep the secrets of the troops under us. I like secrets. Did you learn a secret? Sam has to write a list of things he learned," she shifted the attention to him. Optimus smiled as Prowl looked up at him to countermand. A quick shake of his head was answer enough.

"How about I eat junk food designed to send my chief medical officer off his processor," Ratchet grumbled, systematically picking up the pizza boxes and potato chip bags.

Jazz smiled, his blue visor reflecting the overhead lights. The black and white mech twirled in place, holding his arms in to avoid hitting the others crowded around him. "Our armor can protect inside a tornado. The landing not so much." He motioned a hit and bouncing pattern.

"And restraining orders don't," Mikeala added, hitting pause on the game controller again.

Sam blinked, swiveling his chair to face her directly. "What?"

"Ex boyfriend. Didn't take get lost for an answer. Next rule 'guys leave and stay away at the end of a shotgun held by my aunt.'"

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker flashed a look to each other before joining the conversation. "Never prank a Prime unless you are on another planet at the time. Never hand a human a prank item with their guardian standing nearby," Sunstreaker said as Bumblebee made a fist, playing a growling dog sound.

"When they warn you a spark carrying femme is dangerous, believe them," Sideswipe said.

"Ironhide's cannons are not to be touched or altered," a deep vocal growled. Without looking, they knew Ironhide himself had made that suggestion.

Jolt grinned and held up a blue armored hand. "Test electrical current with the back of your hand especially if human, not the front or fingers."

"So the scar is more noticeable?" Sam guessed, making a note.

"No, reflex action. The current spasms human muscles and the back of your hand will close into a fist and away from the current. The other way locks you onto it and fried squishy," he explained.

"Humans are not to be referred to as squishes, squishy or fleshling by any Autobot, and they will not refer to us as robots, Rule #252," Prowl reminded. He leaned to the side, tilting a door wing inward as Ratchet dumped his handfuls of junk food into the trash by his feetpads.

"The term squishy is derogatory and they have proven their friendship," Optimus added.

"Okay, crispy biological being," Jolt corrected.

"If an invention ticks, clicks, smokes or fizzes and it's not designed to, that's a bad thing. Once the twins modify a device, do not attempt to modify it back. Accidents happen and may lead to great discoveries," Wheeljack suggested.

"Or to extended stays in med bay," Ratchet added, frowning as he cleaned his hands with a blue radioactive gel.

"Never tell your troops, I trust your judgment instead of outlining a battle plan," Optimus blue optics focused on the twins who grinned back before settling on Jazz and Bumblebee.

"If you tell your femme 'no' have a good reason behind it, not a reason that sounds good when you processed it," Elita commented, tilting her head up at Optimus.

"Sounds like discussion time over energon to get the story behind that one," Chromia remarked.

"More high grade on femme only night," she answered.

::It's always better to use a travel agent when making at trip to Egypt:: Bumblebee sent.

"When you have the opportunity to tell someone that you love them, you should take it. Regardless of the fears you may have. Because you never know when that opportunity will fade forever," Mikeala said.

_261. Do not think of humans as sparklings based on their limited knowledge of the universe. Even a sparkling may surprise with its mischief or processor reasoning._

Sarah Lennox smiled, laying the package down onto Chromia's outstretched hand. The dark blue armored feme raised it up, carefully tugging at the ribbon. "Presents for your sparklings. It's our tradition to celebrate a new birth before hand with a party but you'll have to settle for the presents," she explained.

Unwrapped, the contents were held up gently between Chromia's' metal fingers. Each a hooded bath towel of the finest materials with embroidery stitched into the hoods. "For Ram," she stated as the humans giggled. His hood had two brown curling ram's horns. "And for Darkstar," she had black stars on a field of white with gold trim all around. The sparkling clicked, recognizing presents from his time around the humans. His mom lowered the cloth for him to try as the others Autobots watched.

Ram blinked his tiny optics then slid the hood on the wrong way, chirping when he couldn't see. "No, the other way," Chromia giggled, lifting and twisting it around to fit and hang down his back plates. The ram horns stitching settled exactly over his helm. Tiny hands pulled the lower edges around him and he wiggled, not feeling the soft material on his metal protoform but familiar with being dried off from cleansing washes.

"It's time," Ratchet announced, stepping out the double doors of med bay, drawing all attention to the new mom to be. She nodded, transferring Ram and the presents to fellow femme Elita before entering med bay with Ironhide and Ratchet. Ram waved at the sparkling Pyxis, held by his father Optimus.

"If only the parents got along that good," Jazz teased before pretending to cower from Optimus glaring.

"Does any of this seem weird?" Sarah asked as the doors closed.

"My job is interstellar alien weird, you know that," her husband answered.

"I meant talking and laughing Will, then giving birth then back to talking and celebrating the next?"

"Jealous?" He teased.

"Annabelle was worth every hour of labor," she smiled in reminiscence.

Ten minutes later had them all looking at the still closed double doors.

"Should it be taking this long daddy?" Annabelle asked.

"You took fourteen hours of labor sweetie. Let's give them fourteen minutes shall we?" he encouraged, holding her hand before glancing up at the waiting Transformers. He read subtle signs of unease in their movements.

The sounds of running heavy treads had them leaning back against the walls. Wheeljack ran down the hallway, his white chassis skidding to a stop before the double doors. His sidebars flashed rapid pink and red colors. The doors opened enough for him to squeeze inside sideways before they closed again. Ever minute passing had the Transformers growing more restless.

"Anything?" Will finally asked.

"No. We dare not comm and distract them. We will know in time," Optimus answered. He snapped to attention as the medbay doors opened and Ratchet stepped out. He raised both hands to forestall their questions.

"There was a malfunction with the protoform shell but she's fine. Powerful little spark over zapped the closing mechanism with her strength. Minor part retrofit," Ratchet explained then stepped aside for them to enter. Inside, Ironhide stood by Chromia's medical berth, one black armored hand resting near the sparkling protoform even as his optics remained locked on hers. Chromia's chest plates were resealed and her chassis upright as she held the new life.

"CLICK FIZZ?" Ram vocalized first.

"Yes, it's your spark sibling or 'sister' in the human's language," Chromia said as Elita lowered Ram onto the edge of the medical berth. Jolt and Sideswipe lifted the Lennox family up to the edge as Bumblebee lifted Mikeala and Sam. Optimus stood nearby, holding Pyxis.

"CLICK SNICK?"

"No Ram, she's recharging," Ironhide answered.

"CLICK CLACK FIZZ?"

Both parents vented in surprise, Chromia's head snapping around to glare at her spark mate who backed up a step, ducking his helm and averting his optics.

"I didn't teach him that, not exactly" he mumbled, both black armored hands out in surrender.

"I never did," she replied frostily, turning back to face their son. "No, her optics are blue and CLICK CLUNK WHIRR."

The little guy tilted his head to consider then chirped once before reaching a tiny hand to touch her metal. He patted her arm then touched his own arm. "CLICK CLACK?"

"Yes, she is like you."

He chirped rapidly, pulling out of Chromia's grip to sit alongside her. One little hand wrapped gently around hers. The Autobots began chirping and clicking in their native language. Wheeljack and Ratchet reassuring them.

"What did he ask that neither of you translated?" Sarah asked softly, knowing Chromia's acute alien hearing.

"Basically if she was a red eyed femme that would blast him," she answered.

"He wanted to know if she was a Decepticon?" Will stuttered.

"No, the reference was to me and my heightened carrying protocols. Apparently my spark mate made a comment or two that Ramiel overheard and misunderstood," she frowned as the humans laughed.

"No disrespect," Sarah chuckled. "I kicked Will out of the bedroom, the house and threatened to divorce him while I was carrying Annabelle and that was on a good day! Only my mom and sister ever heard my comments."

"Ahh, our species is not so different," the femme shifted her arm, bringing the tiny protoform closer to the metal over her spark.

_When a human asks, "Why aren't you a Decepticon do not answer: _

_a. It is a lifestyle choice. I want a life and that means no Megatron in charge. _

_b. Ever seen a Decepticon medic? I have not either. Ratchet does good repair work. Minus the wrench shaped dents._

_c. I was but changed you putrid sac of bones. See this symbol on my chest plates! * Wheelie_

_d. Their retirement plan is distributing the parts not slagged or blasted to each other if usable._

_e. I never processed that question. Wait, that is a good idea. Then I will not deal with humans and can crush you! * Raises foot pad to make them leave * _

_f. I am a twin and he believes your race is worth protecting. _

_g. I am a twin and without humans to prank, my twin would be lonely and sad. _

_h. I never looked good in purple. _

_i. Red optics so clash with my latest paint job. _

_j. I prefer an alt mode with wheels, not wings. _

_k. No chance for advancement. Psychotic leader, screaming second in command, one sentence speaking third in command communications officer or expendable minion. _

_l. Ever seen a Decepticon femme? Spend as much time in repairs as romancing. _

_m. It's a family thing. We have families and they have trines or cohorts. _

_n. And miss out your company? Hmm, why do we tolerate you humans and your questions again?_

_o. Why would I? They are dangerous. __Wait, you froze Megatron, captured and tortured Bumblebee and stole our technology * optics change to red *_

_p. Too hard to spell the designation. Autobot is shorter and easier than Decepticon. _

_r. A is the best grade and D next to last so A for Autobot. _

_s. We tried, threw us back da out. Yah, we too bad for them. *Minor twins _

_*Amended 06.10.10 Neither Skids or Mudflap have ever been anything than an Autobot. Prowl, SIC_

_*Amended 06.11.10 Neither Skids or Mudflap have ever been anything than a pain in the aft. Ironhide_

_* Amended 06.11.10 Skids, Mudflap and Ironhide have never been anything but a pain in the aft and the repair bay. Ratchet, CMO_

_*Amended 06.13.10 My officers should not spend their time amending rules in general. Optimus Prime_

**Story Arc – To find a Femme (pt 9)**

**European Countryside, modern day**

::Prime is back there! I'm not splitting up. We have a slim chance together and none if we take different roads. Those explosives will not stop him! Worse, he might take it personal that we are trying to offline him:: Barricade

::Don't panic. Two clicks and our paths cross. You fought in Mission City and survived:: Fracture reminded.

::Yes and no. I was on the freeway blocking and Ironhide and Prime threatened to run me off the road. Sent a comm message I could leave or be scrap. I took the next exit and headed for Mexico. Should have picked Canada:: Barricade

:Why ?::Fracture

::They shoot at cop cars down there. Was like growing up in the Decepticon ranks. No friends and the ones in charge want you offline or transferred. Lose a piece of armor and they circle you like sharkticons. Kept trying to steal my alt mode or graffiti it::Barricade

::Then it's good that Prime is back there and not the locals youngling: Fracture sent, her mental tone sarcastic

::Name one good thing about Prime!:: Barricade's black and white Saleen alt mode raced up the side road, dust and rocks spitting from under his tires as he roared into view.

::Prime removed the Fallen. The energon that outdated model used over his pitiful existence could have fed hundreds of sparklings. And slow down. We will know when each ring of charges triggers::Fracture sent, moving over to allowing him to parallel her on the road.

:Rings? You said to layer the charges:: Barricade

::Layer the outer ring deeper to roll over without triggering and the next two rings then the inner blows, forcing them backwards into the more powerful charges::Fracture

::Oh. I layered them deep within the same soil. At different levels above each other. Is that a problem?:: Barricade sent then skidded off the road as her white armored racecar alt mode slammed into his side.

::You idiot! Do I have to explain everything?:: Fracture

::Not everything but you might know. Why did Megatron never remove the Fallen and take his place?:: Barricade slowed to fall in behind the angry Decepticon femme.

::Unknown, like your processing ability. Megatron stated once a terrible choice enslaved them to the dark one and only the Fallen online kept our world safe:: Fracture

::The dark one...you don't mean the sparkling's tale of Unicron? Big bad planet eater that once was the spark twin to the core spark of Cybertron? They believed that old legend? Are you slagging serious?:: Barricade

::You better be. Charges have been triggered and are about to…::Fracture

The explosion rattled the countryside, sending birds into the air.

_To be continued..._


	21. Chapter 21 Traps and who triggers them

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. I have a friend who forwards emails and rule 280 is based on one about _the value of time_e-mail Cybertron style. The current story arc is ending shortly. My intended plot based on TF 3 will be its own fic, as about the time I create it the movie will be out next year and Director Bay will have changed everything. Another story arc is already in progress to replace it.

As for experts or advisors, it is not that they are all idiots. I have learned that by the time many people become an "expert" they quit listening to anyone else and tell you what to do without learning why, how or the normal of what is done. Regardless of the problems their new ways create. I have seen it in small two person businesses up to multi state corporations that change their practices based on outside advice then regret it. Onward to living and learning.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

_300. Do not automatically disregard a human advisor, politician, or expert because they are human. Even a sparkling can learn from them though the lesson is not always the one intended._

"I disagree," the human standing on his desk continued to argue. The fact the surface was the size of a small football field, or stood high in the air and made of a metal alloy not found on earth years before failed to daunt him. The heavyset young man blinked behind his thick eyeglasses and continued his side of the discussion. "You seem to lack the ability to think creatively, too much logic. These security measures are fine for your computing but on earth, dude! You really need to come up with the times! Think outside the box, or whatever you shift into. The military uses my start-up company to solve their problems. And now yours, how cool is that?"

Blue optics narrowed as energon flowed a little faster through his systems. The seasoned warrior and tactician contemplated a thousand ways to show the biological being on his desk unbreakable security measures and refrained. Instead, Prowl vented softly, tapping the security datapad sitting between them with a white armored finger. The touch was enough to make a sound without leaving the handprint impression he could have in its surface. "The term is transform and my alt mode is a law enforcement car, not a box. The Allspark cube resembles a box shape and is valuable second to our sparklings and your planet's continued existence. We would sacrifice it in an astro second if necessary. Barring that, we have sworn to protect it lest the Decepticons or rogue human agencies attempt to secure it. The implemented security measures cover physical, subspace, inter dimensional, and trans dimensional access. What is missing?"

"How about a small but intelligent being, like a human, ducking under your laser beams and grabbing it?" the man pointed at his own chest before grinning sheepishly, wiping at the jelly donut stain above the pocket.

"Covered by physical barriers of force field, 1126-bit key encryption on the files and an 87-character password. The infrared detection beams hover a mere .02354 of an inch apart and above the floor. They are for detection not injury or offlining. A dust mote, I believe the term, is detectable as it moves. "

"Impressive, to guard a sleeping metal cube. Okay, about the unexpected?"

"As in?" The tactician asked, his systems scanning the man's respiration, blood flow and increased mental neural patterning as he tried to create an answer. An internal comm line beeped. ::Yes Wheeljack?::

::Is he impressed yet with our work?:: Wheeljack sent, his mental tone excited.

::No. He demanded to view the Allspark to point out the flaws in our logic of securing it. I informed him if he could find a single flaw he imagines to exist, I would allow an in person visit to the Allspark. Until then, he has limited access to our technology and safety measures. To date, he has been argumentative, lecturing and unable to provide the requested flaw:: Prowl sent back, compressing the last hour of the conversation into a data packet.

::I thought you had the security expert and Prime the idiot Pentagon advisor?:: Wheeljack

::He is the security advisor:: Prowl vented softly, optics narrowing as the man slurped nosily on his iced coffee cup before dropping it to the desktop. White armored fingers precisely grabbed the empty container, moving it to the trash can under his desk.

::Whoops! Alarm sounding. Have to go, minor problem:: Wheeljack

::Which alarm and how minor?:: Prowl tilted his helm sideways, weighing using it as an excuse to leave the human talking to an empty room.

:: Antimatter containment is failing. Minor if the shielding cracks. Otherwise, you do not have to worry about filing my report. Neither of us will be here:: Wheeljack sent before closing the line. The human snapped his fingers, increased activity in his brain cortex clearly displaying to Prowl's sensors.

"Weather! Man, we got wildness on this planet. Ever thought of facing a hurricane, lightning, or giant sized hail?" The human began.

"The Allspark is secured stories underground beneath Hoover Dam. The same protections that guarded it before the Decepticons blew your power mains and unfroze Megatron," Prowl reminded.

"Okay, power failure? Happened before as you yourself just admitted," he countered.

"Sub nuclear reactor in the old manager's office, Autobot designed and built."

"Hopping through time?"

"Trans dimensional access of locked in molecular design on the surrounding force fields," he countered, knowing the man could not understand Wheeljack's' formulas or designs. 'Then again,' Prowl reasoned, 'Neither do I. Estimate 23% chance containment failure, 46% chance repeat occurrence in the next solar cycle. 100% peace if containment fails.'

::Problem handled. But I saw the twins heading towards the main hangar carrying boxes of supplies:: Wheeljack sent in a quick burst.

Prowl closed his optics, linking into the base security cameras. Searching , he found the footage, noting both Sunstreaker and Sideswipe avoiding the main cameras and their boxes were sealed, preventing a glimpse of the contents inside. His optics opened as sensors recognized the human tapping his foot followed by increased mental activity.

"Got it! Vampires?" he hissed, pretending to open his mouth and bite.

"Why would they want the Allspark? Useless as mechanical technology, they require fellow humans, such as yourself to survive," the mech reminded.

"Dude! I do not believe you are taking me seriously," the human scowled. His wrist beeped and he frowned at it before sighing dramatically. "Lunch time then my afternoon game shows are on." He continued talking the entire time Prowl lowered him to the floor, escorted him towards the base's main kitchen area until they stopped before the hangar doors.

"I need to talk to whoever is in command around here. And if the big guy is too busy, his assistant. Make that happen would you?" He stopped, wiping at the sweat on his brow. The tropical heat and distance began affecting him.

"I am second in command," Prowl stated, his wing doors straightening out fully as he stood fully upright.

"No wonder then! You are not the top gun of security but I ain't talking your boss," he gestured a swooshing go away motion. "I mean the big big bosses. Top couple of leaders of your group," raising his hand in an up and up height gesture.

"Prime is our highest rank and I am next in command. Stay here please, I have a situation I need to attend to," he instructed, wing doors dropping as red and yellow Lamborghini alt modes raced by.

Running, he cleared the short distance from the concrete to the road when the human scream had him turning. The man hung upside down, a metal chain wrapped around his legs from the main hangar door brace. Nearby the sparkling Ram sat on the ground, clapping his tiny hands at the man above him. His dark protoform disappeared in the shadow of his femme appearing out the main door. Her armored hands grabbed him instantly.

"Bad bot, wondering off like that," she crooned before tilting her head sideways to stare at human shape swinging back and forth. Reacting on maternal instinct, Chromia stepped back, her rifle falling into her hand from subspace as an orange blur ejected from beneath the beam to wrap around the swinging shape. Then four slots in the wall opened, spraying the human in bright orange foam.

"Shark repellent," Prowl realized before his blue optics snapped to the nearby lagoon then back to the hangar. The roof beam slid out, the end held in the grip of twin mini jets. Screaming, the man's vocals nearly drowned out the roar of the jets as they flew him over to the water.

:: Emergency ocean retrieval, main lagoon:: Prowl overrode the base frequency, attaching the coordinates. The jets eased down, lowering him to hover above the water before the chain clinked, releasing his body into the water. Seconds later, he bobbed to the surface, the orange life vest expanding to keep him afloat. Transformation sounds and chuckling behind his chassis confirmed Prowl's suspicions.

"I do not believe that was in the original designs," Prowl commented thoughtfully, turning to face the twins, as they exchanged a metal hand slap with each other.

"It wasn't. We uh, improved it. Can't be too careful around a sparkling. Anti- human grab and toss protection. And we know," Sideswipe vented.

"The way to the brig," Sunstreaker finished. The yellow mech's faceplates held a gleeful smile even as he shrugged his surrender.

"No," Prowl stated firmly, the barest twitch of his lip plates giving him away. Honking of air horns signaled the rescue boat reaching the lagoon edge at full speed.

"No? We do know the way to the brig," Sideswipe reminded.

"No, you are not required to go there," he said.

"Confined to med bay under arrest?" Sunstreaker guessed, exchanging a startled look with his twin.

"Not med bay," Prowl stated, optics distantly focused as the long metal hook grabbed the human in the water and up to the rescue boat 's side.

"House arrest in our quarters?" Sideswipe asked.

"No, not your quarters."

"Arrest in your quarters?" Sunstreaker said softly.

"NEVER!" Prowl yelled then locked down his emotions to face them. "The information, on our sparklings, the human was attempting to secure is protected from compromise, unauthorized disclosure, acquisition, access or other situations where unauthorized persons, such as him, could have access or potential access for unauthorized purposes. You demonstrated adequate safeguards that were...processing outside the box."

"We're not in trouble?" They asked at the same time, their vocal tone echoing their confusion.

"The measure did include administrative, technical and physical safeguards appropriate to the size and complexity of the nature and scope. Ironhide's suggestions were lethal and impractical. Your creative thinking is appreciated," he formed a rare smile on his lip plates. "Remove the upgrades then enjoy the afternoon. I'll be in my office, working on reports. I calculate a full joor before the man is released from the human med bay, to leave on the next plane available. Until I see him safely on board, the time is mine."

___280. Do not let the length of our existence create a dismissal of small amounts of time. Humans live their moments within their short life spans in ways our race has forgotten. The war will end and we will have to adjust to a time of peace. We need to do more than exist until that event. _

Prowl blinked as the e-mail message sound played from his office datapad. Raising an optic arch, he regarded the screen with mild amusement. "To my personal file and not me? Hmm, let me guess," he said, touching a button to pull its coding. "Has any bot not routed this one? Humans and their chain letters. Even Prime and Bumblebee added." He began scrolling through the letter.

_To realize _

_The value of family,_

_Ask any bot _

_Who has lost them all to war - Bluestreak_

_To realize _

_The unending ache of the spark_

_Ask a brother_

_Who wars against his own brother – Optimus Prime_

_To realize_

_The value of a lifetime_

_Ask twins that are separated_

_Across space and time - Sideswipe_

_To realize_

_The value of 10,000 years,_

_Ask any bot_

_Who has searched for the Allspark - Ironhide_

_To realize_

_The value of 80 years_

_Ask any bot of_

_Friendship with a human – Bumblebee_

_To realize_

_The value of 18 years_

_Ask parents whose only_

_Son leaves for college – Ron & Judy Witwicky_

_To realize _

_The value of 4 years_

_Ask a graduate – Sam_

_To realize _

_The value of 2 years_

_Ask a couple that has broke up_

_Finally! I am not a bunny - Mikeala_

_To realize _

_The value of 1 year_

_Ask any student that partied instead of studying _

_And failed a final exam – Leo Spitz_

_To realize _

_The value of 1 month_

_Ask a NEST officer_

_About monthly reports – Major Lennox_

_To realize _

_The value of 5 days_

_Ask a femme_

_Who waits for her sparkling – Chromia_

_To realize_

_The value of 1 day_

_Ask a human and their Guardian_

_Who share time together - Annabelle_

_To realize_

_The value of 1 minute_

_Ask the difference between a great prank_

_And getting caught (again) – Sunstreaker_

_To realize _

_The value of 1 astro second_

_Ask of an experiment's success versus a _

_Second story lab fire – Wheeljack_

Prowl added another stanza before sending it onward to Ultra Magnus.

_Time waits for no one._

_Treasure every moment you have._

_You will treasure it even more when_

_You can share it with those you chose to be your family._

_**Story Arc – To find a Femme (pt 10)**_

_**European Countryside, modern day**_

_**Two minutes before the explosion**_

The Autobots rolled into the neighboring farm nearly silent, engines idle as they coasted forward. The nearby NATO installation appeared both visually and across a wide spectrum of careful scans. The red and blue flame decorated semi lead the way, followed by a black GMC top kick, a black and white patrol car, red and yellow twin Lamborghinis, and a white with green stripes race car.

"Cybertron presences confirmed within immediate area. At least two distinct signatures," Prowl relayed.

"Barricade!" Ironhide growled, rocking his alt mode on his axles.

"Unknown second signature," Prowl warned.

"Her name is Fracture, a Decepticon officer and dangerous. Do not underestimate her or the evil that surrounds her," Optimus stated. His Peterbilt truck alt mode glimmered in the sunlight, the red and blue flames mesmerizing.

"Did you?"

"No, though Megatron did_. _A night of pleasure shared left them vulnerable to an assassin's attack_. _Megatron saved Fracture taking an injury himself never knowing who hired the assassin. While recovering, he transferred to the ruins of Cobalt and returned to take control of the Decepticons, turning them into a fighting force. He left my brother and returned my enemy. That is for another time. We must discover if they tampered with the NATO installation. Communications can be very powerful," he said.

"Who did hire the assassin?" Ironhide asked.

"The Fallen. We believe he arranged for her to be there, knowing Megatron could not resist her. The attack was a test to see if he would fight or allow Fracture to offline to protect his own chassis in escape. Instead she became the first Decepticon femme command officer, blaming the ruling council for the attempt," Optimus answered.

"Mooooo," rang out, interrupting the conversation. Three black and white jersey cows plodded into view from the field path, their neck bells ringing. The lead cow mooed again before approaching closer to Prowl. Her muzzle dipped lower, sniffing over his hood.

"Please move back," Prowl asked politely. The cow ignored him, leaning down to grab a mouthful of grass by his bumper. Chewing, it dripped spit and grass pieces on his pristine hood. "Move or I will take appropriate action. " The cow continued chewing. Pulling a little more energon, Prowl routed the power to his simulated front headlights. "Say cheese," he quipped, flashing them in a sudden burst.

"MOOOOO!" Squealing, the cow kicked out with both back hooves before springing up and over Prowl's hood, landing with a solid thump on the gravel driveway. She lumbered a few steps forward to turn and look over her spotted shoulder and moo loudly.

"Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the Autobot," Ironhide quoted before snickering.

"Don't have a cow Prowler," Jazz quipped, rolling forward.

"It likes you, two of a kind. Black and white forever," Sideswipe teased, watching the four legged creature amble towards his twin's alt mode.

"Shoo! Go away!" The red Lamborghini ordered, rolling backwards. The cow lifted her tail and they all groaned, closing down auditory sensors. "Gross! That plop stinks!" Shaking itself, the cow munched her way across the grass, heading for the field.

"Explosives detected!" Ironhide yelled in warning before the world disappeared in a white flash and explosion of sounds. He felt his alt mode spinning through the air with the force of the blast, bouncing off a hard surface to strike a tree. Compensators flashed as systems fully charged. "Slagging pit spawned charges! I'm upside down!"

"Transform for battle!" Optimus ordered, parts shifting his semi into his bi pedal mode. Feet pads formed up to long blue legs and wheels, blue chassis topped by red-flamed broad split chest glass panels as parts rotated into his rounded helm and distinctive antenna sides. His silver battle mask engaged below blazing blue optics as he became the war leader Prime. "Report!"

"Not happy!" Ironhide growled, partially shifting on his back before falling over to complete his transform.

"Arrggh!" Sunstreaker transformed, both arms waving at the brown smears across his yellow chassis. "Get it off, get it off! Ewwww! I can't touch it!"

"Where's the cow?" Prowl glanced around, rubbing at the black paint groove across his side plating. A quick scan confirmed Ironhide's matching dent.

"Gone. It sprung the trap meant for us," Prime stated.

"Give you two guesses who processed it but you'll only need one," Ironhide vented.

"Fracture," Prowl answered.

"Her trademark. Sideswipe, Sunstreaker confirm the NATO detection systems. Jazz, link into the nearby satellite relays and find them. Prowl, Ironhide with me. We will hunt our foes. Weapons free, engage on sight. Transform!" Prime ordered.

_To be continued..._


	22. Chapter 22 Trust and ipods

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Per reader requests the _Addicted to Transformers_sub list will become its own mini fic. Took longer than I thought it would to create the back stories necessary. Thanks to kittenCeez for her suggestion of various car racing likes. More to follow on that. Onward to seeing beyond the physical.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

Prowl regarded the pile of papers on his office desk with an amused expression on his faceplates. The white mass stood out among his neatly stacked datapads and confiscated items. The gloss shine of his desk top reflected the last page, its page number 554 unnecessary as he automatically calculated the size of the report. "They are considerate enough to include a digital version of the proposed guidelines for NEST field conduct, and then leave a paper copy in case I need one. Can they not be considerate enough to read my numerous requests they not waste the paper? Trees are a resource not to be wasted. Like opening my e-mails without reading them."

Two large metal armored fingers grasped the pile, discarding it into the green recycling container when a blur of handwritten words caught his attention. Leaning down, his optics scanned through the pages. "I processed this list was forgotten after the lapse of time in its appearance."

_You know you are addicted to Transformers when:_

_52.__A plane flies overhead and you duck, looking for alien markings on it while scoping out immediate cover in case it attacks. Everyone else on the sidewalk ignores it. _

_53. You begin thinking of your physical parts in transformer terms. _

_a. When a sore muscle pulls - My self repair is slow._

_b. Tired - maybe I need to recharge more. _

_c. Stomach growls - Sheesh, when did I refuel last?_

_d. Chassis is getting worn. Maybe it is time to upgrade my workout routines, add some more muscle building and less aerobics. _

_e. Eyes are sore – Need to rinse my optics out_

_f. Breathing hard – Venting pretty hard there buddy, need a rest?_

_g. Stumbling – Try balancing on your feet pads better. You got two of them. _

_54. You find yourself explaining everyday human activities that suddenly seem odd when seen through alien optics. Included – yard work, gardening and cooking on the BBQ grill. _

_55. You worry more about the Autobots coming to visit than strangers, random burglaries or teenage arsonists in your area. Human troublemakers you can deal with, Transformers are a whole category of unexpected problems by themselves. _

_56. You second guess every slang term, human phrase or common expression lest there be a Cybertron meaning that is very different. *See sublist A – DE for examples._

_57. You have become protective of the Transformers enough that you have become secretive to the point you are scaring your neighbors and family._

_58. You begin to avoid movies, shows and comics where the aliens or the robots are the bad guys. _

_59. You check conspiracy theory websites about strange unexplained things happening around the globe before checking the regular news on TV. _

_60. You join an online writing site to show the world your alien friends are more than the other stories portray them as. You just hope the Transformers never discover your writing name is you._

_61. You watch Nascar, a demolition derby or truck rally and think,' this is okay but man, when are they going to transform and really get good?'_

Prowl's blue optics dimmed as his processors scanned through NEST records and the unofficial reports from his fellow mechs and femmes. "This list is negative of our species yet show a human desire to be more like our mechanical functioning. Strange. I need to spend more time among the humans to understand their motivations and perceptions to fully brief Prime on earth matters."

_268. Do not interfere in parental units caring for their young, Transformer or human. Especially interfering with a femme. You may not remain online long enough to know the mistake you have made. _

"Look, look pretty sparkly," Chromia waved the small rattle toy back and forth. Their private quarters blocked outside noises, only the chirping and clicking of the sparklings clear.

CLICK WHIRR

"Yes, your toy sweetie. Look how pretty it is." The rattle jangled as the beads wrapped around the handle swayed with the motion. She held it closer.

CHOMP!

"I said look not eat. No, we don't bite our toys. Now let go," Chromia's tone increased as the sparkling clamped down on the toy. "I said, let go." Her blue optics narrowed as the sparkling waved her little arms while her jaw gears quivered without releasing.

"No chewing!" She half yelled exasperatedly then smiled as Darkstar let the toy go."Spit it out," She held her armored hand by her mouth aperture, catching the sheared off piece. "Not even a tenth of a vorn old and has your bad habits," she glared at her mate, tossing the fragment onto the nearby table.

"When she's older she will have your bad habits," Ironhide retorted, crossing his arms across his massive chest. His arm mounted war cannons had sealed caps on the end. One attempt of the sparklings to crawl inside their complicated moving parts had ended any possible arguments. The caps were light enough to block their attempts yet shred away instantly if he charged them for battle.

"Which are?" Chromia challenged.

"Too beautiful for any mech to resist, a spark that draws me in like a turbomoth bot and strength to endure," he grinned. Then caught the thrown wood block as it sailed past his knee plate. "No Ram. Use something heavy or sharp, not a wood block to hit a target."

"Don't encourage him lover," she reminded, lowering the sparkling down next to her sibling inside the force field enclosure.

Ironhide enjoyed the warm feeling in his spark at the sight. Both sparklings and Chromia in front of him. Three quick steps and he braced against her, his thick cabled arms sliding around her narrower hip plates. A gently nip to her neck cables had her relaxing against him. "My femme," he growled, his lip plates moving down her plating to her outer shoulder brace.

"Ahem, am I interrupting?" Optimus quirked an optic arch upward. His massive twenty eight red and blue figure stood in the doorway, one silver armored hand resting on the door jam.

"Not yet," Ironhide smirked, tightening his grip before releasing her.

"Elita wanted me to thank you for agreeing to watch the kids while the femmes complete their physicals," his regal baritone recognized by the sparklings, as they clicked their welcome. He strode forward, holding out a hand to accept Ram from his femme. Gently, he swiveled his hand against his chest plates, cuddling the tiny shape. Ironhide mirrored his movements, holding Darkstar.

"See you later?" Ironhide called as they both strode out.

"Count on it light of my spark," Chromia purred as the main door slid shut.

The ancient Prime chuckled walking down the hallway, looking down at the tiny mech sparkling. "By this time tomorrow, you'll have another spark sibling."

"I heard that," the other mech growled.

"As long as we don't hear you tonight," he teased back. Ten minutes later had them sitting the sparklings down in the play area of the main hanger. Covered over in plastic matting, it created a protected floor while the concrete barriers surrounding the edge kept them safely inside.

Darkstar hesitated, looking around. They watched as she tilted her helm, little optics bright. "Going for the water blaster," Ironhide grinned, pointing at the human made toy weapon look alike sitting nearby. He watched as she crawled past it, moving closer to Pyxis.

"My son, the femme magnet like me," Optimus teased then vented softly as she crawled past him. She kept crawling towards the far concrete edge, where a familiar human figure stood. Master Sergeant Epps turned, hearing the clicking. He hopped the barrier in one movement.

"Hi there sweetie," Epps knelt down, reaching in his hip pocket. He drew out his iPod and ear bud headphones. Thumbing through the selections, he slid the pieces over her audio ridges and let her hold the device as the music began.

"What is she listening too? I didn't know you kept lullabies on that thing," Ironhide commented.

"I don't. She tends more towards the harder beats. Electro dance and modern rock but I keep the volume low," he reassured before ducking his head at their expressions. "Got to go. Supply order to fill," he mumbled, trying not to run for the nearest exist. When his iPod returned to him in pieces, very little charred pieces, he sighed and ordered a new one. It was hard, but he resisted letting Darkstar borrow it ever again. The threat of having Ironhide pick his song list if he did was sufficient.

_271. Do not believe that understanding equals an answer. To understand another races sorrows, their pain and joys amplifies your own and some events cannot be truly shared only communicated with words._

Inside the human guest quarters main suite, Mikeala stretched her lithe body upward, both hands grasping the pillow off the closet shelf. Turning quickly, she grinned at her boyfriend lying propped up on the bed, his left foot resting on another pillow.

"Leo, I asked if there was anything interesting going on, not a rundown on the girls you want to date. Its summer break, can't you think of anything else? Like going to the beach, eating out or a good action movie?" Sam sighed, holding the cell phone away from his ear.

"Same old Leo," Mikeala shook her head, sliding the pillow behind his back to prop Sam higher. "One more day and you can move around base freely with Bumblebee and me," she reminded.

"I can walk now, I twisted my ankle, not broke it," the young man grumped.

"Uh huh. Which is why you are here and not in med bay or confined in Bumblebee's quarters. You sneak, excuse me, borrow a martial arts staff from the weapons locker," she changed her words at his glare. "Play with it, breaking an overhead light, dent the wall and practically knock yourself out. Then sneaking, sorry you were returning the borrowed wood staff when you trip, swinging it out wildly. You who cannot aim it to hit a target," she plumped the pillow under his foot, adding more ice to the plastic bag over it. "Lock it into Bumblebee's leg gear at the only spot it could have fit, nearly tripping him because he did not want to shift and break it. Only Skids bumps into him and Mudflap to pile into them both watching you stumble. 'Bee was trying to keep all three of them from falling on you as splat out, scraping both your hands on the rough asphalt."

"You like cleaning my wounds," he smiled, hazel eyes twinkling.

"And made Bumblebee, Ratchet, and Prime worry about you injuring yourself again. Now, I have my lessons with Ratchet and then back for dinner." She handed him two aspirin and a glass of water. "Bee has afternoon sparkling sitting duty."

"I am not a sparkling," he pouted; folding his arms then remembered his college roommate still talking away on the cell phone in his right hand.

"No silly," she laughed. "Bee is helping watch Estel, Ram, Darkstar and Pyxis. Ratchet has medical exams with Chromia and Elita. Do you ever check the schedule?"

"Only to see when we need to run from Decepticons and other world class disasters like visiting government officials, hmm, haven't seen any of those lately," he teased, waving bye at her. Reluctantly he picked the cell phone back up. "Yah Leo, I'm here. Sure, Suzie and Rachel would probably both do that and no, we can't double date with Mikeala. You cannot bring girls here to a top secret military base."

"Dude, you are impossible! Still hiding behind all the media lies and cover-ups!" His agitated voice nearly vibrated the phone.

"Leo, you need to trust them more."

"Sam my man. For a 'race that hides their existence in plain sight as an ordinary non self moving and promise we won't blow you up car or truck', what else are they capable of hiding from us? Huh? They never told you about Alice, a class of robots that looks like us. Or the Fallen."

"Pretenders were new to them, only a theory and she was pertty obvious with that super long metal tongue. And the Fallen was a legend so old they thought it was a legend," he defended his Autobot family. They switched subjects, ending the call shortly.

Sam sighed, leaning back into the pillows, his mind remembering his conversation with Optimus before Egypt.

"There is much we have hid from you Sam," Optimus said.

"Much," the youth echoed the word, frowning. "The sun reaper machine and the Fallen would count as much. Optimus knowing he would be offlined and my destiny to find the matrix of leadership is pretty hefty too," he mumbled, feeling sleepy. Yawning, he relaxed into the pillows. The darkness of sleep engulfed his mind before a bright light flared. He blinked, light and steep stone cliffs surrounding him. The wind howled but left him untouched as rocks and sand swirled across his feet. Seven tall spindly metal shapes appeared out of the air in front of him.

"You have questions," the first Prime intoned.

"My destiny!" He shouted at them. "Am I done? Did I fulfill it?"

"Destiny sets only the events. The path before and after are yours to choose," the smaller Prime gestured different directions with his metallic arms.

"You could have refused to find the matrix, to fight for Optimus with courage or to continue here, being an ambassador between the races. "

"And the glyphs I still see?" Sam asked.

"Knowledge of those around you, part of your Prime gift. Do you see any on humans?"

"No, I don't," he realized.

"The glyphs are because words are familiar. A way for your mind to understand that you would accept. Reach more, and you will see further to know more."

"Further, as in the future?" the young man guessed.

"No, further as to the reason and the light that is the spark," the closer Prime answered. His metal spindles rippled down his entire form.

"I don't understand," Sam sighed.

"You will when you want to," the Prime to the far right encouraged.

"It is in desire we reach our paths to the destinations that ours alone," the tallest Prime said.

'These guys are worse than a fortune cookie,' Sam thought, sighing and ruffling a hand through his hair. "Look, what is my destiny? What is next? What am I to do? What is coming?"

"We cannot foretell the exact events. That is for you to decide."

"Decide like finding the matrix and risk my friends or decide to run cross the open sand to be blasted from behind by Megatron? Costing me my life without being able to be brought back the next time?" he asked.

"Decide who you trust," was the answer given. A metal hand traced a circle in the air, mist forming to a scene from the past.

_Sam watched himself talking to Optimus in the cemetery. _

"_I want to help you, I really do," he said_. The light flared, as white clouds obscured his vision.

"Help," he muttered, blinking his eyes to focus on the white ceiling. Yawning, he leaned forward on the bed and checked the time. 'Two hours? Felt like minutes talking to them,' he thought. Heavy foot treads announced Ratchet's arrival. The mech bent down, barely sliding his shoulders and helm inside the door. His multi faceted eyes spun as he scanned.

"I need to ask for your help. I need to understand. When Optimus fought in the forest, and against the Fallen, he 'took their faces," Sam began, looking up at Ratchet.

"We are not the robots your race imagines," he vented softly, not embarrassed by his undignified crouching outside the smaller room. "While every mech or femme is individual, we share many of the same parts. We all exist with a spark, contain processors and power couplers. Whether worn or damaged, they are replaceable with even upgrades over time. The one thing that never changes from transform to alt mode to our designed bi pedal mode in our existence is our faces." Ratchet circled his faceplates with his metal hand for emphasis. From the multi faceted optics surrounded by circular lines to the shortened flattened nasal plate. "Once I reached an adult frame, this became my face and therefore my identity."

"So if you scanned a top kick like Ironhide or a semi like Optimus your face would be the same even as your chassis changed," Sam realized.

"Yes. My design components reflect the generation before, explorers to the stars," he tapped the long hanging metal pieces on either side of his chin and the two above his optics.

"Like the ancient Primes and Jetfire had," Sam recognized the unique parts design.

"Optimus faceplate design reflects an older generation that existed before all of us currently online, the rounded helm with the dual antennas. On whatever world we have visited, he always has that general helm shape."

"So taking their faces is…"

"Removing their very identity and existence. Their shell is that, a faceless nameless shell like any other on the battlefield. With the spark extinguished and their energy signature gone, only a verification of their memory core or an engraving of their name and clan on the spark spire base, if they have it, can identify them. And Sam," Ratchet became serious as his optics slowed their spinning. "Prime only does that when enraged. After your kidnapping, Megatron called for the other Decepticons to fight and they attacked as a group. What did Optimus do?"

"He fought Megatron and Starscream then, wait. He took the face of the big helicopter before offlining him."

"The largest mech there. Starscream is a coward and Megatron sneaky but the other mech used his size to inflict injuries, leaving the wounded to suffer over countless battles. And the Fallen tried to destroy your entire world in his greed at the cost the lives of his brothers, the Primes who created laws to protect inhabited worlds. That careless disregard for life enrages our Prime. He allows any combatant to leave without pursuit if they choose not to raise a weapon. That separates us from them. We give them a choice. Once they raise a weapon, we fight to stop their destruction. They leave us no choice but to war."

_**Story Arc – To Find a Femme (conclusion part 1)**_

_**European Countryside, modern day**_

Sideswipe watched his twin continue to spray water on his yellow armor with the human's garden hose. "I don't process that is what Prime meant by confirming the NATO detection systems. Sneaking up close in our alt modes to clean off smeared animal residue."

"It's gross! This facility is unmanned and we hacked their system in two astro seconds. No other intrusions. Ugh, why couldn't this water be warm?"

::Jazz to Autobots. Found her and Barricade:: Jazz sent in a tightly controlled frequency burst over their main command channel

::Are you sure it is her?:: Prime

::Know any other red and black closed-canopy Formula racer concept car followed closely by an American Saleen S281 Police Cruiser?:: Jazz

::Lemans racing car would have suited her better:: Sideswipe chimed in.

::Nascar. Get away with more crashes:: Sunstreaker added, seeing the blazing intensity to his twin's optics at the sighting report.

::Rally driving with her steering. They are five clicks due east of your position Prime. Sending coordinates now:: Jazz

::Everybot team up to engage. Sideswipe, Sunstreaker close on their left. If you have the shot, take it. Barricade is secondary but a target:: Prime closed the comm line. At the NATO installation, twin Lamborghinis transformed, racing away. Crumbling stone walls on either road edge split only for driveways and side roads. None of them bore fresh wheel tracks. Racing straight on, they reached her first.

::Found them:: Sideswipe

::Having to reroute around a herd of sheep on the road. My alt mode is not designed for cross-country:: Prime

::Leaves us then:: Sunstreaker sent, transforming up to his bi pedal mode, leaving his rear wheels underneath his feet pads. Swords dropped into his armored hands from subspace as his twin mirrored his stance. Ahead, the black and white Saleen slowed, transforming to twist and face them, metal whip forming in Barricade's hand. Fracture's engine revved, spinning her in a tight circle to transform. She held a control pad tightly in one fist.

"Surrender and keep your spark!" The Autobot warned.

"I think not, we've been waiting for you," her deeper vocal carried her disgust of them. Squeezing her control pad, her battle visor snapping into place over her red optics as both rock walls exploded towards the road. Dust and rock debris instinctively sent the twins closer together as optic shutters engaged. Multi layering imaging detected both Decepticons transforming into their alt modes and racing away.

"That femme is slagging me off!" Sideswipe growled, transforming back down as his swords returned to subspace.

"She dented my armor! Now I smell and look bad!"

"Give it a rest Sunstreaker!" his twin grumbled. Jazz and Prime's alt modes roared into view from the side road. The smaller green and white racecar kept well ahead of the heavy revving red and blue-flamed semi.

::Where's Ironhide?::Sideswipe

::Ahead. His higher alt mode suspension allowed him to move faster:: Prime. Sounds of transformations followed by familiar cannon blasts sounded from around the next curve.

_To be continued..._


	23. Chapter 23 How you treat them lists

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Yes, more "you know" lists this chapter. Like all rules, they seem to take on a life of their own and keep going and going. Thanks to fantasyaddict101 for her beta work, Fracture action and crazy ideas not used here but still enjoyable. Onward to treating each person as an individual.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

"What time is it?" the human asked again, continuing to type notes on his laptop. Short with a heavy set build, his stubby fingers tapped across the keys, the spell check adjusting his words. Dressed in the standard grey three piece suit officials wore, his perspiration stained the armpits and neckline as he continued his notes.

"1:34 pm local time," Wheeljack replied, wondering for the nineteenth time why the man didn't glance in the corner of his laptop screen for the time. His sidebars flashed the soft red of aggravation before settling down to their normal standby white. His tall white form provided what blocking of the tropical sun he could, moving to ensure his shadow covered the man once he refused to remove his suit coat. 'Counting tanks on the spare field, making notes on the landing strip runways and now tracking planes on the staging tarmac in the hottest part of their day. Not even a word of thanks when I provided cold water from my leg hatch,' he processed. 'No curiosity of why I wear my battle mask always, or why I have sidebars or am the only civilian on Prime's team. No, he wants to know the time."

::Status report on the inspections:: Prowl interrupted, signaling in on the internal comm link.

::Why did I get this assignment? I do not know what I did to slag you off Prowl but tell me and I will never do it again:: Wheeljack stated.

::What is the problem?:: Optimus asked, the signal overlay letting Wheeljack know it was an open line with others listening in.

::He thinks I am a time piece. Keeps asking me what time it is. Not what we do here, how much it costs us of our time and effort or spilled energon but what time it is:: The civilian inventor grumbled.

::Least you are being useful and not just your inventions:: Ultra Magnus teased.

::Better than thinking you are a taxi:: Bumblebee added, remembering his assignment driving visiting dignitaries the week before in the mainland mountains through monsoon rains and cold weather.

::He thinks, more than most of the human officials sent here:: Ratchet added.

::Unfortunately true. Keep me informed of any problems:: Optimus ordered, closing the comm line.

Two hours later Wheeljack rolled into the main base hangar, transforming up to his bi pedal mode. "Never processed I would be glad to see Blades remove a human from this base," he said.

"We have something else you will be glad to see," Sideswipe patted his shoulder plates, frowning when the other mech flinched away.

"Easy there, we won't hurt you," Sunstreaker cautioned. "You keep our weapons up and build things we steal, err borrow for our own use. We made something for you," the yellow mech formed a grin on his faceplates and pointed towards the wall.

A small white wall clock hung among the official boards and notice signs of the humans. The center of the clock was a mini Wheeljack image. "Why my shape? My arms keep the time," he identified, tilting his helm to the side as his sidebars flashed confusion colors.

"Watch the clock when it reaches the top of the hour, almost there," Sideswipe snickered, his red form rolling back out of the way. Distinct clicks sounded as his wheels flipped up as his feet pads transformed down.

The clock hands hit the hour together and a melody started.

"That's the back to the future theme, my favorite," Wheeljack identified. The other Autobots moved closer, noticing the clock.

The mini Wheeljack's arms began spinning, going around the clock in different directions before moving in time to the music. His legs wiggled on springs. The tiny blue optics flashed on and off along with his sidebars.

"I'm dancing?" He blinked. The clock suddenly rang as an alarm then went quiet, the figure going still as the clock hands moved to the next minute. "I like it."

"Every hour on the hour the melody plays and you dance," Sunstreaker smiled.

"The evacuation alarm was my touch, a thank you for designing my rolling wheels to feet pads shifter," Sideswipe chuckled.

Wheeljack snickered, suddenly processing the perfect payback. 'Tick tock, the twins ran up the clock. The clock struck noon and my revenge will be soon,' he processed.

"Never thought a twin prank would be harmless," Ironhide admitted grudgingly, his deeper blue optics narrowing as he realized Wheeljack in one of his calculating moments. The faint optics, the twitching of his fingers as the inventor's helm titled side to side alerted to his inward focus. "There goes my weekend," the ancient warrior grumbled seeing the other's sidebars flash bright green with discovery. "I need to find a NEST search team. See if they could provide me an excuse off base." An hour later the following list appeared on the notice board next to the wall clock.

_**#286. You know when it is a NEST soldier:**_

_a. They need to ride, hide or get inside your alt mode cab and you open the passenger side door for them, grumbling about the dirt and debris on their boots. _

_b. They fall asleep and you keep watch over them, the courtesy of one warrior to another. _

_c. They ask if they can "drive" and you laugh, dodging the incoming mortars and rolling through flames and shrapnel that has them cringing. _

_d. They ask if you have plans tonight and you grin, "Where is the raid and can I offline any interference?"_

_e. You let them wash you with long brushes and industrial cleaner because your armor needs a good cleaning after the battle. _

_f. They make an impossible request and you snap "No slagging way soldier!"_

_g. They ask for a weapon and you subspace out another sabot launcher to them. _

_h. They start to cry and you try to reassure them the medic crews are on their way and limbs are surgically attachable and human females dig scars. _

_i. They try to place a sticker on your window and you roll it down, warning them you will erase or blast that DVD they just opened and peeled the seal off of. _

_j. The twins, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker approach and you narrow your optics before reminding them no injuries are allowed to humans and NEST soldiers have the skills, expertise and weaponry to get even. _

_k. You need to wake them up. Play reverie full blast, loving how they jump to their feet and salute. _

_l. They ask, "Can you help me out here?" You form a grin on your faceplates before telling them to find cover and bring out your big guns. Their help is good but they aim is pitiful compared to yours. _

_m. They hug you, screaming, "Don't leave me!" and you carry them to safety without mentioning the incident in the official combat reports. _

_n. They suggest a new alt mode form. "No, I am an Autobot and I choose my own appearance." _

_o. They ask a very personal question and you refer them to Ratchet for details on that one. By the time the medic is done, they will not touch a femme of their species let alone ask you about yours. _

_p. They ask, "You won't leave me, will you?" "Only to I kick Decepticon aft. You are safe in these ruins until I return."_

Bumblebee and Sam joined the rest of the Autobots later that afternoon in the hangar. Sam watched the clock, eyeing Bumblebee's yellow form standing next to him. The young scout noticed his look and made a 'no way not me' motion with both armored hands before playing a "no no no" vocal clip. That evening, another list appeared, taped to the one above it.

_**#287. You know when it is Sam, Mikeala, Leo, or Carly: **_

_a. They need to ride, hide or get inside your alt mode cab and you open the driver side door, adjust the temperature, change the seat to their dimensions, secure the seat belt and swear by Primus you will keep them safe no matter what happens. Then drive them to fast food for dinner. *Bumblebee_

_b. They fall asleep and you watch them intently as though a sparkling, processing they are tired and need the downtime. *Optimus Prime_

_c. They ask if they can "drive" and you shift to allow the steering wheel and pedals to work while keeping full control capability. _

_d. They ask if you have plans tonight and you play a cheering sound clip, party tonight and party hard!_

_e. You enjoy washing at a charity car wash by all the young humans to help them raise money. You omit the extra waxing and detailing in an official report._

_f. They make an impossible request and you vent, knowing this will leave dents and incur Ratchet's wrath but jumping over all those cars from a ramp seems so exciting. _

_g. They ask for a weapon and you refuse. Giving them one is worse than the enemy. Decepticons have targeting systems; your humans cannot walk across the floor without tripping or wobbling._

_h. They start to cry and you call Ratchet to verify the cure for a "broken heart" and what it means "broke up with me." _

_i. They try to place a sticker on your window and you roll it down, reminding them you would not put a label on them then congratulate them for eating a fresh apple or banana. _

_j. The twins approach and you narrow your optics, reminding them you are a guardian unto the last of your spark and no harm will come to those you protect. _

_k. You need to wake them up. You play reverie, throw cold water, toss them in the air and they remain asleep. ** Addendum – never wake up a human femme. The consequences are too frightening. _

_l. They ask "can you help me out here?" and you shake your helm "no" side to side. They have to do their own homework or research, figure out their own monthly budget and earn their own game score. _

_m. They hug you and you hug them gently back, feeling guilty. You showed them Cybertron in the night sky to be friendly, not make them sad you are a refuge on their world._

_n. They suggest a new alt mode form. Holographicaly you try the wing spoiler, chrome header pipes, gull wing doors and paint job for fun then suggest new human changes including a mohawk, eyelid paint and chest hair. _

_o. They ask a very personal question and you try to figure out if he is serious and curious, or did Leo put him up to asking that one?_

_p. They ask, "You won't leave me, will you?" and you remind them the dance is for students, not alien robots and not all strange blond girls are pretender drones. Mingle and have fun. _

Major Lennox joined them after a day of meetings, liking the clock and the lists. He laughed, admitting the third list was accurate.

"Ironhide won't like it, accurate or not," Optimus rumbled after reading it.

_**#288. You know when it is Annabelle or Sarah Lennox:**_

_a. They need to ride, hide or get inside your alt mode cab and you open the driver side door, adjust the temperature, subspace out the booster seat, offer a snack or cold water and swear by Primus you will keep blast any Decepticon even processing looking their way. Then drive them to the weapons range or park to play. *Ironhide_

_b. They fall asleep and you stop playing the lullaby or soft music and watch them intently as your own sparkling, who is recharging on the seat next to them. *Chromia_

_c. They ask if they can "drive" and you smile, loving going fast with Annabelle and hearing the latest human swear words from Sarah at the other drivers who get in your way. What Will Lennox never finds out keeps you all happy. _

_d. They ask if you have plans tonight and you agree to sleep under the stars, keeping a close optic on her in her sleeping bag after you read her "_prancing ponies bedtime" _for the 328__th__ time. _

_e. You thank them for washing you, ignoring the fact little hands cannot reach that high and Sarah is too short to reach across your cab, leaving dirt streaks. You are thankful they did not use bubble bath this time. Or that it rained afterwards, like last time._

_f. She makes an impossible request and you vent deeply, knowing you will find a way rather than disappoint them. Wheeljack, Preceptor, Hoist and Ratchet like a challenge right?_

_g. She asks for a weapon and you hand her the super soaker water cannon then count to ten while disabling tracking and guidance systems and hiding. As well as a mech your size can hide on a human farm or military base areas safe for her to search. _

_h. They start to cry and you promise to make it all better and comm call Ratchet, Wheeljack and Perceptor to fix that toy or favorite antique clock. _

_i. She tries to place a sticker on your window and you ignore it, that little fluffy kitten sticker is cute and fits nicely with all the others on your back window now. _

_j. The twins, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, approach and you narrow your optics, watching them go widely around all of you, afraid of the revenge pranks if they try anything. Yours and the Lennox femmes._

_k. You need to wake them up. Tickle them gently with the end of your armored finger, loving the smile when she sees you. Addendum – never wake up the Lennox parental units, especially when they are in their own bedroom and bed together. _

_l. They ask "can you help me out here?" and you agree, referencing the internet as you have no idea why she is interested in a colorful mini horses, why the food is plastic, and why a large feathered hat is the perfect accessory. _

_m. They hug you and you hug them back saying, "I love you too," ignoring the snickers from the other mechs. They can explain later to your cannons what they found amusing. _

_n. They suggest a new alt mode form and you remind her winged horses, dragons, space shuttles and an old west covered wagon and are not acceptable modes to "hide in plain sight"_

_o. They ask a very personal question and you ask her if she knows what those terms means, knowing she heard it elsewhere without understanding then distract her with candy or toy. The source of the phrase will be dealt with later, probably at cannon or rifle point if Sarah does not reach them first. _

_p. She asks, "You won't leave me, will you?" and you promise no force in the galaxy will keep you away, using your hologram to accompany her to the dentist office. It is only a checkup up and if the Dentist even reaches for the drill, his red Porsche in the parking lot is toast. _

Arcee grinned up at Ultra Magnus, whispering, "They missed our favorite category." The tall red, blue and white warrior paused, processing her comment. Then he grinned down at the small femme, sending her the key code to his office door. The fourth list appeared the next morning.

_**#289. You know when it is a civilian: **_

_a. They need to ride, hide or get inside your alt mode cab and you unlock the door with a click sound to let them know to try it. And again and again until they see or hear it. _

_b. They fall asleep allowing you to race down the road and slam on the brakes to wake them up. * Sideswipe, Sunstreaker_

_c. They ask if they can "drive" and you ignore them, again, while tightening their seat belt and moving the seat back._

_d. They ask if you have plans tonight and you reply, "No, I am not driving you and your girlfriend around while pretending to be your car."_

_e. At least they paid to run you through the car wash, though a full cleaning would have been nice instead of the express wash. _

_f. They make an impossible request and you stay quiet, after all you are hiding in plain sight as a car and normal cars do not talk back. _

_g. They ask for a weapon and you hand them a rolled up newspaper. "It is a spider not a weapons drone. You are too big for it to carry off. Stay back and it will crawl away when you quit scaring it by screaming. _

_h. They start to cry and you hand them a tissue; insurance probably doesn't cover their crushed laptop that you transformed around but they left it in your trunk. _

_i. They try to place a sticker on your window and you wait until they leave to remove and shred the "For Sale" sign. You are worth more than their price suggestion. _

_j. The twins, Skids and Mudflap, approach and you wait to see if this human is a screamer, crier or understands what is about to happen when they start their new knock knock jokes. _

_k. You need to wake them up. "Yo fleshy! Up and at them!" while swinging them upside down by their ankles. _

_l. They ask "can you help me out here?" and you remind them they chose the freeway at rush hour instead of trusting your built in navigation relays. _

_m. They hug you and you pat their back awkwardly, making a processor note to never let them get that drunk again. _

_n. They suggest a new alt mode form and you ask how their 40 or less years of knowledge compared to your thousands of years feels it gives them the right to think, let alone suggest altering yourself._

_o. They ask a very personal question and you vent, straighten up to your full bi pedal height while yelling "Hey! That is none of your business. I do not know you that well! Nor do I want to."_

_p. They ask, "You won't leave me, will you?" and you nod a yes. "The military will debrief you and this day never happened and you never saw me." _

Ratchet read the fourth list after morning reports, optics dimming a little. His tall green and yellow armored form sagged as he moved away. 'I had hoped Arcee and Ultra Magnus would pair up. The laughter and sounds through his office door gave me faint hope. A sparkling would keep them out of my repair bay if they considered less dangerous fight strategies because of added responsibility. Instead they create this list. Amateurs,' he processed. Five minutes later the nearby copier printed a list with instructions for the soldier finding it to tape it next to the other lists.

_**#290. You know when it is a government official: **_

_a. They need to ride, hide or get inside your alt mode cab and you lock the door in front of them and drive away stating, "I'm sorry, the rules of the treaty forbid me providing preferential treatment to the human race."_

_b. They fall asleep and you rejoice. Time to disappear and let them figure out how to find your alt mode come daybreak on a base as large as Diego Garcia. _

_c. They ask if they can "drive" and you ask if they have a permit for alien vehicles per requirement LARX - 926-1979-056 ROMP and is it current with copies filed with the appropriate offices? _

_d. They ask if you have plans tonight and you challenge them, "You got a subpoena to force me to stay? Otherwise its overtime and that costs extra."_

_e. You watch them pretend to grab their heart in pain and nearly fall over at the idea of spending tax payer money on a car wash when they spent how much to fly there to annoy you in the first place?_

_f. They make an impossible request and you laugh, stating why you cannot the same as the previous nineteen impossible requests they asked earlier. _

_g. They ask for a weapon and you hand them the calculator, it's only a budget proposal not the final copy for Primus sake, no need to be melodramatic. _

_h. They start to cry and you snicker, their budget committee approved the project last year and overruns are expected, though twin damage was not really specified._

_i. They try to place a sticker on your window and you wait until they leave to remove and shred the approval tag. You are Cybertronian built and whom do they think they are to put a "inspected by" on you?_

_j. The twins approach and you comm them internally, "Watch him until I return would you? Might be awhile."_

_k. You need to wake them up but they are already awake, pulling paperwork out of their briefcase and drinking more coffee. This is going to be a long, boring day. _

_l. They ask, "Can you help me out here?" You reply, "I would but those boxes are full of top secret information and I shouldn't mess with them or carry them. Might drop one in the ocean. Call a forklift to help." _

_m. They hug you and you say "Ahem! I told you not to flash your credentials at the Decepticons. Be glad they only shot the papers apart and not you." _

_n. They suggest a new alt mode form and you laugh, citing the need to increase the budget for new chrom – a –ton imagers if you do, five actually and they are very expensive. They quit asking. _

_o. They ask a very personal question and you tell the official story to match the receipts presented for mileage. That little joy ride with Sam and his girlfriend is none of their business. _

_p. They ask, "You won't leave me, will you?" and you nod yes, "The control tower reports your helicopter is inbound and the dust it stirs up jams my gears. Good bye and good riddance."_

_**Story Arc – To Find a Femme (conclusion part 2)**_

_**European Countryside, modern day**_

The driverless vehicles roared down the narrow, winding two-lane road as the sounds of Cybertronian weapon fire echoed. Twin Lamborghinis, red and yellow painted raced ahead of the white and green striped racecar leading the blue and red flame Peterbilt semi. All four slowed, swerving between the trees and abandoned farmhouse structures. Ironhide's black armored form spun into view, the mech ducking as his cannons spun rapidly. "Slagging femme is using acid grip grenades!"

"Those are outlawed by both sides!" Jazz yelled angrily, transforming and bringing up his arm shield blaster. The other Autobots transformed, changing their rolling speed into running as they closed around the farm's outer edges, firing to keep the enemy contained. The decaying wood barn hid their shapes but not their energy signatures.

"Pit! This is turning into an Ishsir fight," Barricade warned, ducking as wood boards shattered around his hiding place.

"Ishsir?"

"I Should Have Stayed In Recharge!" He yelped, pulling at bent shoulder armor.

Fracture's faceplates contorted as she let out a shrill frustrated scream, ripping off his hanging shoulder armor. A throw sent it flying outside onto the dirt. "Any more whining and you're aft follows it!" she warned, targeting the yellow and red shapes.

"Would you quit firing those things! They're outlawed! They're going to hand us our afts on a energon platter you crazy femme!" Barricade screamed back.

Outside, the twins moved closer. "What's he saying?" Sunstreaker slid below the blast, optics watching the ground heave and boil where he had just been crouching. The acid nannites dissolved everything in their path disappearing as they burrowed downward.

"I don't know. I don't speak idiot," Sideswipe teased back, pulling his blaster from subspace. Prime and Jazz signaled their readiness as they moved closer.

_To be continued..._

_Author's Notes: Okay, this story arc conclusion will have a third and final part. Until all are one, hummergrey_


	24. Chapter 24 Fracture and broken families

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Thanks to ladyofdarkstar for her help writing the first rule with Ratchet. Thanks to an early reviewer for the Chromia comment. Windy is an official Generation 1 Autobot femme. I also I researched the Fallen's past on TF wiki and found his original name, though not given in the ROTF movie. As for Fracture, her canon history only had one ending but it does vary a bit here.

TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TRANSFORMERS

_270. Do not mistake personality quirks with professional skills. The best of humans are often the unique appearing of their species. Unfortunately, our best have quirks too._

"I'm scared of your medic. I've heard stories about him," the small femme admitted, pausing inside the doorway to medical bay. Flanked by Elita and Arcee, her badly damaged armor and stumbling tread seemed emphasized on the short walk from the cargo plane to its doors. Her soft green armor color hid beneath char burns, old laser scars and the general grime of poor maintenance.

"Hah! If you listen to the rumors about Ratchet without knowing the truth, then you would want to run for your spark," Arcee commented, resisting the urge to stun the femme and have a larger mech carry her. Slightly taller than Arcee, the new femme's frame was wider and heavily armored, the few pieces still intact. Nevertheless, Arcee understood the fierce warrior pride that as long as one of them could walk, they would seek help on their own two feet pads.

"Are you sure?" The femme moved forward, the bent footpad clanging softly across the solid flooring. Her orange helm swiveled slowly, taking in the hanging scanners, the wall unit and assorted data consoles surrounding the medical berths. The darker lighting let her optics adjust as the air and temperature reflected their home world.

::Remind me to wrap Ironhide's cannons around his neck plates for this. Poor femme arrives on earth, and the first time she can get decent medical care, he frightens her with stories about Ratchet:: Arcee sent to Elita alone over their internal comms. Her blue optics darkening as the faintest core of red appeared.

:: I would rather wrap something else around his neck plates, like my hands. Mechs he can mess with. Femmes are under my command first then Prime:: Elita answered, lowering the nearest medical berth. Silently, the entire flat surface sunk to allow the smaller femme to sit down.

"Is this the new arrival?" His regal baritone preceded Optimus' massive red and blue armor frame as he strode through the door. Both Arcee and Elita grabbed for the femme as she tilted forward. Trying to rise and salute at the same time, she overbalanced and nearly fell. Optimus remained where he was, as the femme straightened.

"Long range Gunner Windy reporting sir." Her light soprano vocal conveyed her respect and wariness mixed with awe.

His optics narrowed at the jagged sound of her system running. Her energy signature matched the record known to his Prime files even as he resisted wincing at her physical appearance. The laughing, smiling femme in his files hardly matched the dinged up, wavering femme sitting before him. The distinctive helm shape with the flared backsides and corners matched when no other could have. 'Like a human's hair bow around pulled back hair then metal plated' he realized. 'Only without the deep grooves and metal mars she now carries.' He pushed down his command tone and approached as Optimus the mech, much as he could. "I would offer you energon and private quarters to rest in after your long journey but..."

"I need to be checked by the medic first, I know. My system could not handle pure energon right now. Been scrapping by for a few vorns," she admitted, keeping her optics downcast.

"Then I leave you to Elita's command. Your reports can wait. My Second In Command, designation Prowl, will contact you later and assign you quarters. I have sparkling sitting duty at the moment, if you gentle femmes will excuse me," he said, as Elita caught the undertone to his words. A full report on her condition from Ratchet and Elita's observations would count more than anything the femme could say or do.

"Is it true?" Windy asked, the moment he left.

"He is our last Prime? And the shortest Prime known? Yes. We have a data decahedron showing the original Primes twice his physical height though not as broad in the armor," Elita teased, keeping her tone light and cheery.

"No, that there are sparklings? Real sparklings?" Her optics flared, the first true signs of her vibrant personality showing.

"He sparked one and the big black armored mech you met at the landing site, Ironhide? He sparked two with Chromia. Real little pit spawns if they get the chance to escape your optics," Arcee answered.

"Ironhide's maybe, my little mech is too much like his parental mech. Uses his intellect and good looks to get his way. Half the base dotes over him the astro second he twitches and cries. Normally we let Chromia watch Annabelle and the sparklings. She has a motherly side of her, somewhere slipped between her Espionage 101 and Basics of Interrogation files. You can meet them later," Elita said.

"Could I now? Skip the exam?"

"No, no and no." The double doors opened and they watched as Firestar rolled in, transforming up to her bi pedal mode.

Elita laid a comforting armored hand on the trembling femme. "She is on our side. Ratchet is a large yellow and green armored mech. His energy signature is very distinct even as his coding screams medic. We will be here while he examines you Windy, you can say no to any test or procedure and he is professional and understands."

"If it helps, these are the things to never say to Ratchet," Arcee began. "First, what appointment? Two, it sounded like a good idea at the time. The twins use that one and it never works."

"I disagree. They work very hard at aggravating all of us," Firestar giggled.

"Wheeljack's favorite, how was I suppose to know it was going to do that?" Elita copied his puzzled vocal tone perfectly.

"Wheeljack is our inventor and famous for experiments going wrong. He can fix your blast rifle though. And then there is Sideswipe's famous greeting, 'Your armor coloring? C'mon, you can tell me. You lost a bet, didn't you Ratch?"

"He has yellow green armor coloring and won't change it. We pretend not to notice. Sideswipe followed that with his now famous second line, uttered in med bay needing repair. 'You've got better aim with your wrenches than with your blaster," Firestar repeated.

The doors opened and Ratchet stepped through before bowing at his waist plates in the old Cybertronian ways. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company femmes? And such wondrous beauty to behold."

:: Don't overdo it:: Elita warned over the internal command frequency, hearing his smooth tone.

::Never. Politics before I studied medicine remember?:: Ratchet answered, moving forward with his hands clearly seen.

::Why aren't you that nice to me?:: Arcee griped. The pink femme rolled around the end of the berth, moving to stand beside Windy.

::I was until you assisted the twins in hanging me upside down from the rafters last March:: Ratchet reminded.

::I cannot help it if your coloring reminded them of a giant leprechaun. The pot of gold and rainbow hologram was my idea:: Arcee sent back before rolling further from his reach.

Windy's hand disappeared into the grip of his larger armored hands as he smiled. She smiled back, her uneasiness draining away. A large mech with impeccable manners and gentle approach banished the frightening image she expected. An hour later she rested in full recharge, energon drips in both of her main connections.

"And?" Elita asked. Her optics read most of the complicated medical coding displayed across the monitors but not all.

"She'll need extended care to reset her systems. I will put Rone in charge of her. Not because she is a femme but good practice for Rone. Windy will not care as long as the pain eases. If Rone cannot handle repairs here with me watching, she will never survive open combat work. Until then, I have another procedure to deal with," his fingers transmorphed into an array of cutting and metal shearing tools.

"I didn't see any scheduled," Arcee consulted the general log.

"And give my victims warning?" He grinned. "Time for Ratchet the Hatchet to live up to his reputation. Starting with Ironhide. Bawahahaha." By the time he stopped laughing, the femmes had cleared out of med bay, spreading the word to the mechs over the comm. He grinned, transmorphing his fingers back to normal. "Best way to get a quiet afternoon if they are all hiding and staying low. Never time enough to get reports done."

_275. Do not let the pains of the past steal our future. Here and now is the time to forgive, to live, to mature and provide for new life. A single act can have terrible consequence not foreseen._

Optimus held his sparking Pyxis against his simulated glass front, listening to the soft noises as the little mech recharged atop his cupped hands. The walls of his main room echoed the sound back to his audios. The closed door and walls blocked the external noises of the base activity outside the building.

"And you accused me of being over wired," Elita's vocal reached him. She leaned over his shoulder plates, rubbing an armored hand over the tiny sparking helm vents.

"Primes are known for their patience, not being over wired," his reminded in his best regal baritone.

"Are they also known for spoiling their sparklings? You haven't set him down," she commented, rubbing her cheek plates against his. Standing, she was at the same height as his sitting frame.

"He's recharging now but I promised him a story this afternoon. I would be setting a bad precedent if I fail to keep my promises." His hands moved, cupping the sleeping form between them as though protecting.

Elita refrained from commenting, observing the tenderness of his expression as he watched his son. The incident earlier in the day had upset him. The condition of the new arrivals disturbed her, how much more when he considered all Autobots as his personal responsibility. Even distant star trekker teams he had never met. Her lip plates touched his armor feather light before she withdrew. "I'll be in med bay if you need me. Want to be there with Windy when she pulls out of recharge."

Half an hour later, Pyxis stirred, opening optics to darkness. Light streaming in between metal fingers had his shuttering his optics.

"Let me see those little blues," Optimus crooned, raising his hands to his optical level.

"CLICK CLACK SNICK?"

Chuckling, the ancient warrior regarded the question. "If you are asking, are they the right blue?" he chuckled. "Yes they are." Tiny hands reached out, tapping against his metal shutters before examining his sire's bright blue optics.

"CLICK CLUNK?"

"Mine are always blue and I pray to Primus yours will be too," he vented hard. "My brother's optical blue matched earth's deepest blue sea. The femmes loved his color even as he cared nothing for their attentions. Unless he wanted something from them. Power, connections, whispered secrets it did not matter unless it aided his quest for power. I confronted him on it and we argued," Optimus began saying.

"We split and our paths rarely crossed. His military career was worlds apart from my scientific career building and expanding our cities. I spoke before our entire Senate, including the Grand Council, reasoning why our civilization needed to change. We could not define our existence based on the clans and the original thirteen warriors of our history. Megatron sat in the front row, fully emblazoned with his war medals, his armor pure silver and smooth. That was the last time I saw his blue optics," Optimus murmured.

"The Grand Council thanks Orion Pax for his speech and now will adjourn to the council chambers to discuss the matter," the floor speaker rang out. Orion turned and watched his spark brother stalk out, leaving through a door surrounded by his military officers. The brokenness of their family link bothered him, sending him out the main doors and back to his work hangar.

Twenty minutes later, Megatron paused, sensors confirming the emptiness of the structure before him and no other energy signatures nearby. "Where is he? No matter, I can wait. Better than listening to those sparkless drones mouthing words about our future." His footpads rang out, announcing his presence across the vast area. Light reflected weakly through the windows, alternating light and dark on his armor. Only the blue of his optics shown brightly. The blast of power knocked him backwards without warning.

"Fool!" The Fallen stood over him, the tip of his power scepter burning above Megatron's spark plating. Metal flanges on the mech's face wavered with his anger as metal debris floated around them. "Sensors are for the weak. Trust in your own power. I left footpad prints across the floor, that window is covered when the rest are not to provide shadow for me to hide in. You took my name and none of my cunning. One more mistake Megatron and you will be a pile of scrap. And I will take a new apprentice."

"Forgive me master," he began then cried out as the pain surged. The single spot on his armor slagged, widening and melting as the scepter's glow increased, rivulets of power clawing down to Megatron's protoform below.

"Forgiveness is for the weak. You failed. You failed to be a warrior, using the strength of your processor to expect an attack. Do not make that mistake again." He raised the scepter, taking a step back.

"Yes Megatronus." Released from under the power, Megatron rolled onto his side, one hand covering the light of his exposed spark through the hole.

"My brothers, the Primes, were weak. Their compassion in sparing inhabited worlds nearly cost us Cybertron. They betrayed me, taking the Matrix and hiding it." His metal fist clenched, the floating debris exploding all directions to smash against the far walls.

"It was fate that led the archeology digging team to your sealed sarcophagus and to me," Megatron gasped out, rising to his feet pads.

"Fate? Banish that from your processor. Fate is what we make. I will have my revenge; I will finish the task I started. And you will have power." He raised his staff, pouring directed power into Megatron's silver form. His emergency systems engaged, absorbing energy until circuits fried, power conduits overloading. Screaming, the silver mech fell to the floor, his armor reacting to coding, shaping and flowing into layers externally as new parts formed internally.

"The sound of pain never changes. I set a bomb to remove those weaklings calling themselves the Grand Council. Even now their sparks fade, buried under rubble. The main chamber I left alone. Those politicians, they will rule now. Their endless debates and scrabbles for power will prevent progress. You will fill that void. Be the force to lead them," the Fallen exalted.

Megatron groaned again, pushing himself up onto his side plates. His optics opened no longer blue but red. He stood to his feet pads, balancing as new systems came online.

"You can do what only a chosen few could. You can transform. Our race crawls on the surface while the elite few serving the Grand Council ascend among the stars. No more. Now there will be Seekers, those capable of leaving this pitiful world to search among the stars for what we need. Energon to feed a thousand conquests. And you will lead them," the Fallen pointed with his clawed hand.

"I have the power of a Prime?" Megatron exalted, examining his new armor ribbing.

"Worthless! I was a Prime and my power could not grant me victory! True power is leading cowering masses as you move from world to world. Power you must command. And the Dynasty of the Primes will be nothing more than a historical legend upon the history we will write in spilt energon!"

The next morning Megatron surveyed the assembled mechs and femmes, feeling the intensity of their gazes. They were the malcontents, the ones thrown out of the main army, the newly released from prison under Megatron's authority as Lord Protector. And they assembled before the still smoking ruins of the Senate building. For him.

"The time has come to set ourselves apart. They consider their madness the only way. Cybertron stagnates, draining life from other suns but it is never enough. The rulers decided our existence, dividing our race into castes based on direct lineage. They choose their lineage as the ones to rule, we choose to listen and be the slaves. The Vos war will consume us as they stay safe in their cities. Now they pay as we have paid for their orders. Orders for our energon sacrificed for their mistakes. No more. The red of our optics will remind them of their madness. That we, the Decepticons refuse to be broken." Megatron shuttered his optics, sliding the blue lenses out of the way. The blazing red color brought gasps as his optics flashed open.

"Our reign begins now!"

On earth, Optimus opened his optics, feeling the pains of the past. The silence of his personal quarters broken by a single grunt of effort. A tiny hand clutched on his nearest windshield wiper, pulling it out before soft clicking drew his attention to the same tiny servo wiggling the wiper up and down. Smiling, Optimus engaged his connection, moving the other wiper blade across his simulated glass window front. Pyxis followed the motion up and down, bobbing his head to watch.

"And to think Wheeljack spends hours designing toys and he watches your swishy part," Elita commented, leaning around the main doorjamb as her energy signature flowed across their identifiers. The rose colored femme moved, hands waving at her mech sparkling, Pyxis cooing back at her but refusing to let the wiper part go.

"Human vehicles use them to move things obscuring their vision. Water, snow and dirt particles and it's called a windshield wiper," he teased back in the same tone.

"Are they good at moving human budget analysts? I have one I need to disappear out my view range," Elita complained.

"What now?" He vented.

"He doesn't believe all our quarters require extra soundproofing materials. Thinks we are being overly private in wanting to block out the human noises. Told me to turn off my audios the next time noises bother me," she grumped.

"And what did you do femme of mine?"

"I asked if that included not hearing general alarms, calls for battle and cries for our help when it hits the energon fan. He did not have an answer for that one. I did fail however to point out that our noises are also blocked from their hearing," Elita spoke softly in his audios, sliding her hands down his front plating, grabbing and stopping the moving wiper.

"Our noises?" Optimus optic arch rose at the playfulness in her tone.

"Once little bundle of wires there is in recharge, I'll give you a demonstration. Wouldn't want me being wrong now do we?" Elita said.

"Why wait for recharge? A full energon bottle and his recharge berth and pretty lights to keep him busy."

"My spark is more than a pretty light," she chuckled, walking towards their private room, her hip plates swaying side to side.

**Story Arc – To Find a Femme (conclusion)**

**European Countryside, modern day**

"They're rolling again!" Prime yelled, watching alt modes pull together on his thermal sensor. Vehicle shapes exploded out the far side of the barn, racing down the road. The racecar pulling away from the black and white Saleen police cruiser. Left in their wake, the farm structure groaned and creaked, collapsing to the ground in pile of broken beams and timbers. "Transform and pursue!"

::Is this a race or a fight?:: Jazz quipped, transforming down.

::Told you it was a rally race:: Sideswipe sent.

::You turbo revving punks forgot the most important car event:: Ironhide sent, engaging his armor locks while plowing over the nearest hillside, leaving the road.

::Which is?:: Sunstreaker asked, his sensors momentarily losing track of the weapon specialist as he engaged his tracking cloaks.

::Destruction derby:: Ironhide grunted, freeing his wheels and processors. His black armored form roared down the small hillside as the two lead cars rounded the curve. The police cruiser, further back engaged braked, the smoke rolling as the road peeled under his tires.

Fracture saw the danger the astro second before they collided. Her alt mode slammed onto its side, armor buckling as it slid across the road with Ironhide's mass pushing hard. The metal guardrail bent, hanging her off the precipice below as his tractor lock engaged. The other Autobots raced around the corner in time to see Barricade transform and shoot straight up in the air, vanishing from sight.

Fracture's alt mode balanced, creaking metal matching her groan as stabilizers failed. Gravity pulled on her heavier back end, slowly swinging her around as the dirt edge began crumbling. Attempting to transform her main chassis shifted on its side, rotating out into open air and freeing from the bending guardrail. The rumbling of the nearby engine as the Top Kick pushed vibrated the last chunk of soil free. Her upper body spun up into the air as her legs formed, dropping down the cliff edge pulling her off the road completely.

Ironhide watched her fall and never moved. The crunching impact faded beneath the engines of the other Autobots s they rolled to the edge, sensors detecting her energy signature fading. His black armored form guarded the broken edge as Major Lennox and his retrieval crew finally arrived. He rolled away once the military helicopter flew out of optical range with her broken chassis. But even his sensors failed to detect the Decepticon tracker on her inside bumper. Or the faintest trace of power remaining deep within her spark.

Barricade never lost the signal, tracking it all the way to the military base. His sensor drone hovered above the sentries, recording every word. The time to rescue her would come. "I waited a thousand years for the call to earth. I will not leave her in the hands of humans. They will forget over time and fail in their guarding of her. It is the way of their race. But not of mine."

_To be continued..._


	25. Chapter 25 One choice, one outcome

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews and please continue to leave them. I put up a poll in my profile about dealing with Mikeala and the next several chapters of the story arc based on the results. Moreover, as an EMT, I about had a heart stoppage myself in ROTF when the medics shocked Sam WHILE LYING ON A METAL PLATE! Realistically the medics shocked themselves and there would have been two crisped medics and one limp body. Oh well, movie boo boos. Thanks to Phoenix13 for her Ironhide quote to Sunstreaker about insolence.

This series is more than simple humor. It is about telling stories, the why behind the personalities as no one simply is grouchy, or a wrench thrower or fighter. Onward to discovering how our past affects our future, in ways we cannot see.

TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TRANSFORMERS

_263. Do not become caught in the trap of emotional responses. We do not exist solely in the current time. Our long-term existence provides a hope no human could imagine even as it contains pains built one upon another. _

The explosion rattled the purple metal walls and shook the floor plates, nearly throwing Arcee onto its heaving surface. Engaging compensators kept her upright and moving, if uncontrollably. She hit the wall harder than intended with her shoulder plating, medical sensors pinging as metal on metal crunched. The small warrior femme's grip remained tight around her blaster as her other hand curled inward and bent as gears failed, cables breaking. "This mission is going sunward. Join the team, attack a 'Con outpost. Instead it's an armory with troops and our recon becomes a full out assault."

Floor debris skittered past her, pulling towards the nearest metal vent as air whistled by. "Slag, hull breach. This is going from bad to pit. All we need now is the chaos bringer to appear," she muttered. Her optical display fizzed as energy pulses built from below. A distinct Autobot signal flared dangerously close. Arcee remained hugging the wall as Sideswipe ran around the corner from the opposite direction, his feet pads splayed wide as another explosion rocked them. Stumbling, he practically fell over her.

"Move it femme! This moon base is coming apart! Cost me a sword already," Sideswipe's hand grabbed her functional arm plate, his strength lifting her pink and white armored form closer. His head swiveled, looking back the way he came then ahead as his sword remained raised.

::Prowl to all forces, you have nine point zero one four breems to reach an escape access:: Prowl's transmission flowed across their heavily encrypted Autobot frequency.

::Status of the reactor?:: Prime demanded, his vocal calm and steady as ever. No sounds of blaster fire, no cries of pain echoed across the transmission as the battle raged around his team. Drones, even on remote coding, still fought as their Decepticon designer wanted. Deadly, fast and shooting at anything moving.

::Unstable and decaying rapidly. Unable to monitor long distance. Rescue team is onboard Shuttle Two and outbound with wounded:: Perceptor answered.

::Long distance is where we slagging had better be soon. Closing on your position now Optimus:: Ironhide added.

::If you had not shot the reactor directly 'Hide, we would not be rolling for our sparks now. Saboteur Team upper ramp by Shuttle One and holding the door open for you slow bots.:: Jazz reminded, his tone teasing and cheerful even as the black and white bot waited in the upper hangar.

::Mission was to destroy this base, even if his way lacked style. Hey! That shot ricocheted::Sunstreaker chimed in.

::Then keep your head down junior. Cross fire don't mean perfect aim. Take these drones down and let's roll. Tired of all this purple coloring:: Ironhide grunted, closing the line.

"Sounds like our cue to go," Arcee vented, pulling free of Sideswipe's grip but staying close. Her foot wheel spun at full speed to keep pace with Sideswipe as his longer strides carried him down the hallway.

"Two more turns and we can access the upper route through the main silo," Sideswipe encouraged, beginning to outdistance her. A quick consult of the downloaded stolen files indicated a third of the moon hollow with criss crossing access ways ahead in the main silo. Arcee hesitated, the ghost of a signal across her targeting mainframe.

"Sides, wait!" Her optics widened, her lip plates parting to yell a warning when it happened. The resounding cracking sound, the ramp way collapsing with the far supports shattering. He missed the laser blast from above, she hadn't. His yellow armored arms wind milling, Sideswipe reached for the platform rail, crunching the metal in his armored fingers as the entire ramp began falling. A thrust of his feet jets sent him upwards clear of the falling purple walkway. Flying towards the next level , he almost reached it as the sniper shot exploded into his side, the pain and shock disabling his thrusters. Arcee watched helpless as he fell, his frame slamming into the crossway below hers.

Arcee winced but kept moving, focusing everything on following the shot backwards. The energy flash sped out from her muzzle, the charge racing upwards until it punched the Decepticon's spark. A fleeting moment of satisfaction flashed across her processor as his chassis slumped, lifeless. ::Sideswipe, answer me!::

::Nice shooting but stupid. Roll for that shuttle now!:: Sideswipe's mental call reached her. She balanced on the ramp edge, gauging the distance between them. Closing her optics she leapt, landing more or less on her wheel slide.

"Not without you," Arcee argued, her hand laser slowly cutting his twisted metal. "Next time you try and land on your feet pads, land on them. Your leg is halfway into this ramp."

"Hah! Admit it, you like me. I knew my good looks would out do Springer and Hot Rim," Sideswipe vented out roughly.

"It's Hot Rod and your looks are not what I want haunting my recharge images for leaving you behind," she countered, lasering the tangled metal apart.

"You need to go. You can't stay," Sideswipe pushed at her, too weak as his systems reset to move her.

"We both leave, together. Either for the shuttle or for the Well of Sparks in the Matrix," the femme said, pulling and tugging his leg out. One look and he closed his optics, knowing he would never walk on it nor lean on her fast enough to make it. A deep pain in his protoform leg core caused his optics to snap open.

"What are you doing? That slagging hurt!"

"Battlefield transform. Realign your feet pads to match mine. I have medical training, should be enough," she explained, holding him down.

"Yours? A wheel?" He stuttered, then arched, screaming.

Exactly one breem later her pink and white armored form rolled down the last hallway, Sideswipe rolling behind, both legs transformed around a wheel slide. His upset voice nearly drowned out the rumbling of the collapsing base. "Side effect? I'm slagging silver!" He yelled, finally catching up to her .

"I said I had medical training, not a chief medical officer! You can upload the paint codes from Sunstreaker! And you're welcome for saving your aft!" Arcee snapped back, sliding to a stop inside the abandoned hanger. "Nothing but a Decepticon shuttle. Figures. The sub light engines will get us clear but it's a slow way back. If one of our own teams don't shoot us down first."

Five breems later, aboard the last fleeing Autobot shuttle, Optimus acknowledged Perceptor's report. "Understood, Sideswipe and Arcee are missing and unaccounted for. Proceed to the rendezvous point and wait for them there. Both are resourceful. Prime out."

"You're leaving them?" Sunstreaker screeched then recoiled as the expanding nova outside the ship blinded them all.

"Reactor blew. All long range sensors are out as are communications until manual reset," a male vocal stated from the back of the bridge.

"This is your fault! Those cannons blow everything! What next? Huh? Cybertron itself? How long until you offline one of us old mech!" Sunstreaker raged a cable's space from the ancient weapon's specialist.

"When you have the experience, CPU, and strength to back up your words, then you can insult me," Ironhide growled, "I won't stand for such insolence from a sparkling with a gun and an over-rated opinion of himself."

"And Sideswipe is alive or you would know," Optimus regal baritone reached the distraught twin. "I have no doubt you and he will be reunited."

"He's my twin! I need him. And I am the best looking, with him around. I am not over rated!" Sunstreaker protested, stomping back a pace to glare at them both. His injured arm reamined hanging but his side, the wires exposed as his other hand actively twitched with his anger.

"Ironhide, you just got promoted to next in line under Optimus," Jazz realized. "Primus help us all. We need to get those wounded bots up and transforming quick."

"Jazz, you are now third in command too," Optimus countered. "Ratchet, transfer the patients and prepare us for a comet landing, yourself including. Bumblebee believes he has found the Allspark world."

"Comet forms? Why?" The medic challenged, his protocols warring to stay with the most critical patients and join the team that could ensure the survival of his entire race.

"It's a technologically primitive world, biological not mechanical based. Only way to reach it is through the Sangster black hole," Optimus admitted.

"Pit! Black hole not space bridge. And why biological? Ain't we seen enough of those," Ironhide grumbled.

"The same black hole that opens regularly but not all the time?"Ratchet grumbled. "A one way trip?"

"Only if we fail. I believe we will succeed and again be reunited with our friends and those closest to our sparks. In the future Sunstreaker, Prowl will be locking you in the brig with your twin following a prank, I have no doubt of it. At that moment be thankful for both their presences and remember my words."

The mech vented deeply then sagged as Ratchet engaged his medical overrides. "I'm shipping him and the other two wounded with Red Alert to the outskirts of the Gillman's asteroid belt. Ultra Magnus' base is there. Prowl too. His spark chamber needs time to stabilize after that blast. I resealed his spires but he needs time to heal fully. And Primus willing, we will all be there to watch Prowl lock this stubborn aft in the brig."

On earth, years later Sunstreaker grinned at Prowl. He walked into the brig, the smile still on his lip plates. His twin rolled past before disengaging his wheel and snapping down his red armored feet pads.

"What?" Prowl asked, unable to imagine what the yellow twin was grinning at.

"Glad you are there and I am in here with Sideswipe. Remind me later to thank Prime for being right," Sunstreaker answered without explaining.

**Story Arc **

**Time for a Change (Part 1)**

"Ready for today's lesson?" the sound of Ratchet's vocal greeted Mikeala the moment she entered the Autobot med bay. She glanced around quickly, her long dark hair swaying with the movement. He leaned out of a nearby doorway, his blue optics bright as he smiled at her. "Start by examining the energon samples on the main console please." He disappeared back inside the controlled lab area, the door sliding shut.

Twenty glass jars of blue to brown fluids rested in rows across the table surface. Each lid bore a Cybertronian symbol glyph, many unfamiliar to her. She paused after climbing the ladder, noting the cleanness and exact order of medbay undisturbed around her. "No distractions, time to make my brain work. Labels will not tell me, so deductive reasoning it is." Her hand pulled the datapad from her lab coat pocket, opening it to begin note taking. Halfway through the samples, Ratchet snuck up behind her, moving almost noiselessly.

"Leaving dental imprints on the end of the stylus is not conductive to processing and may result in harm to your enamel layering," he stated, one armored finger pointing at the writing tool in her left hand. Sheepishly, Mikeala wiped the end against her lab coat.

"I know, bad habit. Use to be pencils and now it is a writing stylus. I admit it," she sighed. "I can't figure these out. Let alone the back row."

"Then start with what we know," his armored finger tapped the first container. "Pure energon, suitable for?"

"Main intake lines and processing the main fuel capacitors," she responded almost immediately.

"Lighter blue and thinner consistency?" Tapping the next jar lid, the Autobot medic waited.

"Suitable for lay lines, mild pulsar internal units and optional attachments."

"Mostly correct," he smiled. "At one time our race wore adornments and attachments similar to your use of clothing and jewelry but no more. Our attachments are for survival and therefore not optional. Weapons, sub space pullers are made of war not convenience. The other samples in the row are variations. Suitable for a sparkling, an energon starved system slowly recovering, and related. The next four behind them in the back row I will identify. This one," he reached, his armored fingers closing around it precisely before holding it before her face. "The energon is unused but see the sparkles?" He tilted it side to side, the light reflecting off tiny points of light throughout.

"Like glitter," she answered, half smiling.

"Apt comparison with one flaw. The glitter Annabelle decorates with makes things cuter. This glitter is fractional shards of metal. The mech carrying this was a Decepticon offlined in battle. The shrapnel damage to his pump contaminated his supply. Unusable by us and him, even had his spark remained intact."

"Is that why you flushed Optimus' system after Egypt? Remove contaminations?"

"Partially," he hesitated, unsure how much to tell the young human girl. "There were complications from his combining. Energy fluxes included, from both the Matrix restart and the charged parts. Jetfire had been energon starved and the working engines operated with ancient Seeker energy and the Allspark shard overlay before adding to Optimus systems."

"The Allspark shard Sam and I revived Jetfire with, you mean," she said.

"Yes. And these are past problems also. The two samples are poisoned. This one," he tapped the first lid. "Contains nannites that attach to the nearest charged metal surface and begin replicating. Block all tubes and thereby block energy flow. This sample contains a hidden mixture that solidifies the energon when they both mixtures warm inside a mech's system. Jam up every workable part. Only solution is total replacement of anything affected."

"I can't tell the difference. Not on the outside," she admitted.

"I can, even as they rest there. Then I know what to look for on nineteen different visual levels, how it registers against my finger sensors and the faintest chemical difference in its odor to my intake channels," Ratchet said, his tone flat and without emotion even as his medical systems actively scanned her at multiple levels.

"I can't touch it, smell it or be exposed to it for long as energon is too acidy," she stated, her mind jumping ahead. "This isn't going to work is it? Me being a Autobot medic?"

"I've taught you all I can," he said, sinking down on his knee pads to place his face plates closer to her.

"As a human you mean," she breathed out, her shoulders sagging.

"You are one of my finest students, better than several med interns I dealt with on Cybertron."

She smiled, feeling the compliment for what it was, but not enough. "It seemed easy, learn what you taught me. After Mission City, anything around you seemed easy. I hot-wired the tow truck, 'I drive, you shoot,' I told Bumblebee. It was familiar in a sense. Metal all around me, the truck under my control as I drove us. The explosions never registered until later," her long hair twirled around her fingers as she unconsciously played with the unraveling end of her ponytail. Ratchet listened, fascinated by her memories contrasting with the deep emotional distress of her body readings.

"And the cover up began. No alien war, no damage except for an out of control technology program. Even that forgotten as life continued. They paroled my dad; Sam pursued his college dreams by applying everywhere and I ran the repair garage. Any fighting occurred elsewhere as a brief news clip here on the television, an internet mention there. My family remained within reach, a phone call here, quick jaunt on my motorcycle and I snuggled in loving arms. Sam, my dad, even all of you visiting me in your alt modes to say hi and continue our friendship. I pretended I did not know what was happening elsewhere, concentrating on bills and parts deliveries."

"Egypt changed that," Ratchet said. His optics narrowed as her heart rate jumped, perspiration showed across her forehead and she licked her lips.

"After we found the Matrix, Sam and I split from the others. His confidence overrode my fear and I needed him there with me," she admitted her eyes downcast.

"What happened?" His armored hand cradled behind her, providing security as she rested against it.

"The Decepticons cornered us in a house. We hid inside as they searched through the village. Wheeljack speculated the ancient power of the matrix kept us from their scanners or the residual Allspark energy covering Sam cloaked our human energy reading," she looked at Ratchet without seeing him. Her hands rose to cross and rest against her chest. Their slightest tremble registered to him as the dilated size of her pupils.

"For the first time I knew. In Mission City I had not seen a blast wound, knew what Cybertronian weapons could inflict until I studied with you. That is why I left to return to my garage. If I stayed away, did not see the war, I could pretend it was not real. The life I had always known was there. Quit, plain human life without aliens or danger. Cornered in that house I couldn't pretend. "

"How did you escape? Sam never mentioned that," Ratchet frowned, digitally accessing the stored reports.

"We ran and they chased us from rooftop. I had nowhere to drive, no vehicle to steal or control. No transformer to rescue us until Bumblebee appeared, attacking the transformer carrying Sam's parents. As they fought, we barely escaped getting hurt. All I wanted to do was curl into a ball and hide."

"But you didn't," Ratchet reassured.

"No but I didn't help either. Sam crouched, 'Kill him 'Bee, kill him' watching as they fought and I remained quiet. I stayed with Sam because I was afraid. I thought he had this special protection, heck he survived the encounter alone in Mission City, destroying Megatron with the Allspark. Whenever he's in danger you rescue him."

"And Megatron attacked," Ratchet stated, giving her time to continue.

Her eyes filled with tears. "In my dreams I can hear Megatron's voice, 'Die!' as he fired I see Sam's body flinging through the air, landing on that metal plate."

Ratchet frowned, replaying the scene as the details registered. 'The boy's body lying on metal, the human medics kneeling alongside. The electric shock paddles charging and his body arching. 'Impossible. They knelt by him on metal and the shock would have translated though the metal. That is why their own rules forbid touching the body or to administer shocks in water or on conductive surfaces. Their backboards are wood or plastic with padding on their gurneys. I concentrated on Arcee's blue and purple damaged forms, letting the human medics try to revive Sam. Slag it medic! You know better than to miss the obvious.'

Mikeala began speaking again, drawing him away from the recorded memory packets. "I realized how vulnerable we were. For the first time, I felt small and powerless. Human. I pleaded with Sam to come back to me. To make everything right if he opened his eyes and the war, the pain and the fear would go away."

"He did return," Ratchet comforted. Her crying bothered him even as medical protocols reassured him it was natural and healthy for her eyes to leak fluids.

"Not for me. He returned to save Optimus and fulfill his destiny," Her hands dropped, as though lifeless to rest in her lap.

"And now you and he?" the mech prodded verbally.

"It's complicated."

He snorted, a disagreement sound following from his vocalizer. "Complicated is a setting on an internet social media page not for real life," the medic said. "Not for Sam, he came back to you in Egypt."

"He returned for Optimus."

"He returned for you and his parents and all the earth. The Matrix powered Optimus to defeat the Fallen, thereby saving all of you. His first words were "I love you," not "I love the big red and blue spark mech with the processing sense of a sparkling shoot me now stubborn aft throw myself into danger leader."

She giggled, amused and aghast at his undignified description of the Autobot Prime. "I loved him as Sam the dorky college student. Now he is the human interplanetary ambassador and I am still Mikeala. I tried being your lab assistant, tried learning all I could."

"What do you want?" He leaned in very close to her, intent on her answer.

"I don't know."

"You know what you want, I read the signs in your body language around the boy, and the way you move and smell. Even now I read the answer. You are afraid to commit."

"What? You just said..." Mikeala sputtered, sliding off of his hand to stand.

"You are afraid to commit to your wish to leave. Turn and walk away from all this for a normal human existence. You know Sam will stay as battles continue, the humans discover our existence and all things change. The stress is affecting you, Sam and indirectly us."

She smiled, the faintest trace of bitterness to it. "When this all began, Sam challenged me. Don't you want to say you had the courage to get into the car? Meaning Bumblebee. I chose to get in the car and had adventures for years. I have the scars to prove it."

"We, the Autobots chose long ago as war raged across our world. This world is not Cybertron but Earth. You can do what I could not. Leave into a life of peace and live as you want to, without reservation or regret. Find a mate, bear your children and look up, seeing only the stars above and not dead planets and conquered moon bases. Make your choice Mikeala Banes."

_To be continued..._


	26. Chapter 26 Moving on

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Per the poll in my profile and the new Transformers Movie (due out in theatres in about 10 months), Mikeala is out as the love interest of Sam. The Autobots and Decepticons introduced are canon ROTF versions with Armorhide and Lockdown if you really want the toy versions as well as _new TF3 addition of _Rollbar. The story arc will reference Lockdown and Ratchet but the_ focus_ will be Prime and Megatron as well as Cybertron during the war. Add in the usual twists, surprises and explanations and hold on for a wild ride.

I do not own Transformers, any of the human actors or rights to the films. I am only taking them out for a spin. Thanks to tf wiki for the transform research. And today, September 26th is my birthday! Woo hoo! Another year alive and kicking.

TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TRANSFORMERS

**DIEGO GARCIA ISLAND NEST BASE**

**MAIN AUTOBOT HANGAR**

The human soldiers on the communications platform stood at quiet attention as Ironhide continued lecturing the newest Autobot arrivals down below. They watched them unobtrusively, trying not to stare. The visiting Pentagon official did nothing but stare at the new mechs. Jazz, Arcee and Ultra Magnus tried not staring at him and his bright purple hair.

"Remind me to thank the twins for pulling their latest prank on the human and not his car," Ultra Magnus said. "I'd hate to see that 1964 Porsche 911 come to harm."

"What makes you thing the twins were responsible for this prank?" Arcee quipped, rolling around him on her footpad wheel. Ironhide's blast of static over their internal comms interrupted them.

::I'm trying to hold a briefing here:: Ironhide

::And I though you only held Chromia::Arcee

::Funny femme. Keep it up and you can hold the hill position in capture the flag against both sets of twins:: Ironhide

::You fight dirty:: Ultra Magnus

::Just now figuring that out? With all that armor you'd think you'd have more processing power units installed. Wait, there was no room after the mass compensators for your heavy aft:: Ironhide retorted, smirking at the burst of angry static from Magnus, closing the line.

The taller new arrival, though stockier and shorter than Ironhide, had a physical presence matching the ancient weapon specialist' gung ho fighting manner. Unlike the others, his weapon remained mounted on his shoulder even in his current protoform. His silence at the comet site and the trip to the NEST base unnerved the humans, an almost itch feeling at the base of their skulls they couldn't explain made them keep their distance, standing by the far metal support rails not the nearer. The shorter, red armored mech spoke human phrases with Cybertron terms mixed in that left them confused.

Ironhide's sensors read the humans uneasiness but chose to deal with the less dangerous of the two. "Rollbar, report to Prowl for arrival briefing. Then to Hound for scout work. Your radiation and chemical sensors can assist NEST tracking missions, and audio-video equipment record the data we need. Rollbar? You listening?"

"Totally moon phased. Monitoring the frequencies of animal fights. The bears, beavers, and seahawks to name a few. This world totally outdoes Spaceport CSSB-16 for orbiting level hazards," the mech's tenor voice carried his awe.

"Only if you're the football quarterback. Report to Prowl then upload Bumblebee's data packets on sports then report to Hound," the ancient weapon's specialist grunted. The other mech nodded, transforming down to a bright red Jeep Wrangler 4x4 TJ custom. In full reverse, he rolled out of the hangar and across the tarmac. Beeping his horn, he raced between the soldiers, who blinked as the red jeep continued its path driving backwards the entire way.

Ironhide made a mental note to review basic earth driving rules in the first uploads before facing the remaining mech. "You need an alt mode Armorhide. While NEST is now global your assignment is with my team for heavy fire backup and you need to fit in around here," Ironhide stopped, listening to a frequency the humans could not.

"Assault buggy should work and yes, you can keep your weapon visible. No, Prime still will not let you mark your external armor with Decepticon symbols for 'Cons offlined. They take trophies, we are above that. You know the rules, broke them enough times. The 'Cons won't care what your paint job looks like or how often you change it anyway. Only how many holes they can blast in it. And get Ratchet to fix your vocalizer into a normal range. The supersonics is irritating me and upsetting the humans," Ironhide grumbled, leading the way to the Autobot sized door. As soon as they passed through the door the humans on the platform moved.

"Armorhide? He Ironhide's kid or something?" The official rubbed at the back of his neck, descending the stairs to the main floor first. His grey suit and purple hair stood out among the green and brown uniforms of NEST.

"Nope. First question Major Lennox asked," Master Sergeant Epps answered. "He's a soldier trained under Ironhide on Cybertron. Armorhide liked the sound of Ironhide's earth name and created his own version of it. No family relation at all. Other than being a giant walking metal life form that is. Man, I bet he kicks aft if Ironhide trained him."

"What is aft?"

"A Decepticon's metal part that needs kicking back to Cybertron. Especially Soundwave and the mini terrors he carries. That's how they broke out the Allspark shard from the bunker. Like to see them come on base again with all the Autobots here now," Epps said.

The Pentagon official flipped through his notes, unable to find the reference. He spared a quick glance at the waiting Autobots before moving closer to Epps. "Let me understand. Soundwave is a Decepticon warrior, I can't find his alt mode, though apparently it's a truck or van since he transports other Decepticons?"

"Close but no prize, right big boss?" Jazz grinned. The saboteur officer pointed upwards with his armored hand.

Ultra Magnus took over as senior officer, resisting the urge to swat at Jazz's armored hand. The big red, blue and white mech folded his arms regally while keeping his feet pads still. The size of tanks, their movement tended to have a disconcerting effect on nervous humans and smaller mini bots. "Soundwave is a communications officer, third in command under Megatron and his current physical form is a Cybertronian based quantum communications array. He has no earth based alt mode and those 'Cons are reconnaissance drones based on original Cybertronian mechs with fully functional sparks. Now they are expendable drones with their programming uploaded. Ever time one is destroyed another shell is programmed and released. The originals are too valuable to risk in combat. Too easy to offline."

"I see," the official said though his tone clearly stated he did not.

"And Soundwave is the human version of his name. His Cybertronian one is an audio full even in our language," Arcee reminded.

"Then who is Shockwave? His father?" the official asked, making hurried notes with his ink pen.

"Second in command under Megatron, and no relation other than both are ugly," Jazz began. His blue battle visor dropped into place as schematics for both mechs appeared across his battle array.

"Wait!" the human tapped the thick paper file in front of him. "Intelligence states Starscream is the second in command."

"First time I've heard intelligence and Starscream in the same sentence," Epps chuckled. "He is leader of the seeker trine and calls himself second in command."

"Pesky cyber rat is more like it. Always trying to smack down Megatron and take over. Shockwave commands Cybertron when Megatron is getting his spark toasted by Allspark cubes. His transform is a large purple shock cannon, leaves city size craters in his wake," Jazz explained.

"Oh, so who commands their city? Sleeperwave?" the human joked, shifting his shoulders as his neck began pulling from looking up at the Transformers.

"Nah, it commands itself, or rather himself. Trypticon is a sentient Cybertron spark sealed within a city form," Jazz answered.

"How convenient," the man murmured, closing the file.

"Anything else required?" Ultra Magnus asked politely.

"No, I'm going for a drink. A very strong drink before I return to the Pentagon and I am never going to complain about our file names again," he said.

_284. When a human asks how do you transform, do not answer: _

_a. You put your right footpad in, you put your right footpad out. You transform all about then roll your left wheel forward. _

_b. I imagine being in a tiny, dark empty space like your head, then wham! Transformation. _

_c. I push the little button labeled "transform" on my arm. _

_d. I have no slagging idea, ask a medic._

_e. It's too complicated for your species to understand, ask Prowl for the rules, I have patients to repair._

_f. There are 22 rules on transform with 15 addendums, which did you need explained?_

_g. What do you care? Your bones would break before conforming though then the term "squishy" would fit your race._

_h. Your brain barely accepts learning a new word or acronym and you want to see the millions of lines of software code for transform?_

_i. First you really want to have to change, have all your protocols enabled, know what you want to change, visualize the proper parts all rotating….I'm kidding. It's an automated systems. Word trigger is transform._

_j. When two transformers really love each other and spark merge...wait, wrong question. _

_k. As long as all parts are attached and working and you have transformed lately you can do it. How lately? Hmm, it is not daily but go longer than say, ten thousand years and ouch! Go from painful to downright spark threatening. _

_l. Same way as Unicron and Primus, slowly and with each part in its proper place. _

_j. Generally, the way my great Autobot ancestor discovered it, the Decepticons copied it then upgrade over time. Like this * transforms * Oh sorry, I do not know how to explain it, I just do it. Like how do you know to ask dumb questions? Natural talent. _

_k. If you are a small bot, pull the outer parts in. Medium to large bot squeeze everything in or if Megatron or a triple changer, fold part of yourself into subspace, pull the rest in and hope your subspace pullers never fail. _

_l. With_ _intense physical and mental concentration to accomplish, honed over a period of in-depth training to uh...what the question was again...ohh, look pretty sparkly!_

_m. Part of my great upgrade. As in, it is great to transform and not walk everywhere!_

_n. With the transform sound - an 8hz pulse, repeated five times, whose pitch can be represented by declining for alt-mode to robot mode or increasing for robot mode._

_o. To disguise myself, to move faster, to protect my protoform, and to increase my firepower. Wait, you said how not why didn't you?_

_p. How? I hear Prime give to order to transform and roll out and I transform. That simple. _

**WITWICKY RESIDENCE**

**TRANQUILITY, CALIFORNIA**

_269. When losing a bet, honor your agreement. Even if it involves humans and conduct you would not normally engage in. Humans are a risk taking species that do not honor their promises but we must show them a better example. _

"Mom, what's going on?" The young man's voice echoed through the room, the creaking of the front door stopping as he froze, literally mid step. His hand remained curled around the knob, the grip tightening as emotions conflicted. The human female and mech on the couch looked back at him without embarrassment or regard.

"Samuel Witwicky! Where are your manners? No, hi mom how was your day or sorry I am late and not here to help with chores but what is going on? I taught you better than that. And wipe your feet before you go tracking mud on my clean floors," Judy Witwicky corrected, waving the TV remote in her hand. Leaning back, she continued handing the small bowl from the table to the Transformer.

"Uhm right sorry," Sam apologized, seeing only the little mech sitting on the back of their tan couch. Wheelie wiggled his blue optics before selecting an energon snack from the bowl firmly clutched between both miniature hands. The dog collar around his neck sparkled in the light as he moved.

"My day went fine, thanks for asking. As my only son you should care. Wheelie helped me rearrange the kitchen cupboards that your father has been promising to do forever. And about time too. How anyone expects me to cook when I can't find anything is beyond me," Judy continued talking.

Wordlessly, Sam closed the front door. A waving human arm at the edge of his field of vision caught his attention. His father leaned out the doorway, gesturing the teen down the hall towards him. "Be right back mom, going to say hi to dad."

"Sam," his father gripped his arm tightly, practically swinging the lighter young man into the dining room. "You have got to get rid of that...that…thing."

"Why? What did he?"

"He is taking sides with your mother! I planned to play golf tomorrow and now we are going to organize the basement storeroom. Instead of sipping wine and snacks while snuggling on the couch we're ordering pizza and going over old photos of you," his dad complained.

"Not my baby pictures again. She shows them to everyone," Sam groaned.

"Worse, she is telling me I cannot throw him out of my own house. What's next? Giving him your old bed?" Ron complained. He ran a hand through his thinning black hair.

"You still have that?'

"Your mother refused to throw anything away, it's packed up in the attic. But don't mention it to her. She will probably make me clean and organize the attic," he said.

"Ron? Ron! You order that pizza yet? Wait too long and you'll complain about the delivery time and use that as an excuse to not tip," Judy's voice reached them from the couch.

"You take that robot back to college with you or else," Ron ordered. "I never went to college, same as every Witwicky before me. I still provided a nice house, good cars and food on the table for my family. Even afforded a trip to Paris for my wife, whom I love very much and want to keep happy. But I will not stand by and let that little foul mouthed rolling metal terror sleep under my roof after calling me a fat, balding cheapskate."

"I'll talk to him dad, let me handle it" Sam stressed, patting his father on the arm. He crept back into the room, sliding up behind Wheelie. "Need to borrow you a minute, Transformer stuff, top secret and all that." Snatching fast, he grabbed the mech to his chest and half ran through the kitchen and out the back door. "Alright you, talk!"

"In English or Cybertronian?" Wheelie retorted, slapping at the human hands holding him. He vented, dropping to the grass without warning when those hands opened.

"What have you been doing with my mom? How did you help her?" Sam asked, crouching over him.

"I used my lights," the little blue mech clicked on his front light bar, illuminating the entire area.

Sam blinked against the brightness, "I never realized your lights worked, thought they were part of your remote control truck shape."

"My lights shine in the back of the cupboards and I fit where her hands couldn't reach. Found some old knife and a dish she liked dropped down inside. Just because I am small, don't mean I ain't useful. Soundwave sent me to retrieve the Allspark shard. I helped you and the warrior goddess find Jetfire!"

"No humping her leg! I mean it or I'll send you down the trash disposal. Helpful or not," Sam warned.

"Who spit in your energon? She's like a Prime! Strength and power; first time I saw her wield that bat I knew. She is worthy of serving to the spark," he admired.

"Yah? She's my mom and you make her cry even once, I'll…I'll…I'll turn you over to the twins for a pet!" Sam threatened.

"Easy spark boy. I know a good thing when I see one. Didn't process that way at first but now I don't mind serving my time here," the little Decepticon turned Autobot commented. His footpad wheels turned, spinning him the opposite direction.

And suddenly Sam knew. "You lost a bet didn't you? You have to do this for the week I'm on spring break. Whom did you lose to? Bumblebee? Ironhide? Or Ratchet? To afraid to go back and face them?"

"I lost a bet but not what you think," he admitted, rubbing at his neck plates before fingering the glittery dog collar.

"Then explain it to me. I'm listening," Sam sat on the grass.

"I bet I would never find a replacement when Mikeala left. If I did, I would serve her no matter what. I told the twins that. As a Decepticon, I would not have cared what I said. As an Autobot I need to honor my oaths," he admitted, his tiny optics and shoulder plates sagging down with memories.

"Here," Sam reached, undoing the dog collar. "You don't deserve this."

"Actually it would never work long term," Wheelie vented deeply, resting on the grass on his aft.

"Oh? Why's that?"

"I love to recharge late and she gets up at the slagging crack of dawn! Then hideous," he shuddered.

"Did you see my mom undressed? Is that?" Sam's voice raised as his expression darkened again.

"Lay off will ya? She has the body of a goddess! No, your dad in his underwear," the tiny mech shuddered. "He scratches his aft and yawns. Breathe worth than the exhaust from a seeker on high grade."

"Tell me a about it. Why do you think my bedroom is upstairs and theirs down? Spent half my childhood needing therapy from accidentally seeing things like that," Sam said.

**Story Arc **

**Time for a Change (Part 2)**

_It is my hope that fate allows me to tell this while facing you my sparklings. In the event fate calls me to the Matrix, I leave this message._

_For every victory, we have paid in precious metal, energon, and now human blood. Sending the Allspark from Cybertron protected it, taking Megatron out of the conflict for a short time. Its discovery on earth cost human lives and the destruction of the cube itself. Or so we thought. Now it lies dormant, rebuilt but unable to function. Megatron lives and fights even as we achieved victory over the Fallen. As any Prime, Sam has earned his right to stand among us at the cost of his heart. _

_Optimus Prime Log Entry # 121_

Samuel Witwicky, human Ambassador and earth Prime, knelt while scooping dirt around the newly planted tree. "In loving memory for life ended too soon," he said. A small plaque in Cybertronian at the base honored the civilians killed during the Transformer fights. The city park in Mission City, its play equipment designed and built by the Autobots for all children provided a cheerful background for a tradition few knew. The young man stood, wiping his hands clean on the towel.

Overcast, the gloomy weather reflected his mood as he glanced over at the blond hair young man standing nearby. The faintest shimmering on the edges betrayed it as a hologram and not a real person. "I can't believe it's been over a year 'Bee since she left. Leaves a goodbye note and disappears," he said. A soft comforting sound echoed from the black and yellow Camaro parked nearby. "I know, I miss Mikeala too. Her idea for a yearly tree planting makes it hurt. She always teased me about getting more on my hands and clothes than around the plant roots. I never thought it would end this way. I knew it could, heck," he sighed. "All the battles we fought and we go our separate ways. I never got over her but she did me."

His mind replayed the image that haunted him for weeks. The off-white linen envelope, an obvious official invitation mixed with advertisements and his latest skateboarding magazine in the mailbox. His hands opening it, sliding it out to read the words that dropped his heart to his shoes. _"Mikeala and Brian request the honor of your presence at their wedding."_

Rain began pounding, the hologram teen disappearing as Bumblebee shifted completely to his yellow Camaro alt mode, opening his door to let Sam in. The boy dove inside, shaking water from his hair before slumping in the passenger seat. The rapid warm air blowing from the dash ruffled his hair without bringing a smile to his face. Bumblebee rolled down the road, careful to keep his speed slow within the posted limits.

'Ratchet fixes my vocalizer only for me to not need it,' he processed. 'In silence pain is shared. I miss Mikeala. Worse, he has lost his focus. He has become like Prowl, letting his work consume him. Sam barely remembers to eat or sleep,' Bumblebee processed.

Lightning cracked across dark thunderclouds, their static charges dancing across the mech's sensor array. Then one sensor charge increased as the others faded. The Decepticon signal that not even Bumblebee detected until the green and black armored mech landed in front of them, cracking pavement and sending them skidding off the road.

At Tranquility Lake, the other Transformers waited in their alt modes, parked under the main picnic area. With the rainy weather, the lake remained deserted so no one saw the magnetic beam pulling the picnic tables to one side to allow the vehicles to park under the metal canopy. From left to right they were varied and impressive. A red and blue flamed Peterbilt Semi, a black GMC top kick, a green and white rescue Hummer and a green and white racecar.

"Whose bright processing was this? Under a metal roof?" Ratchet growled, feeling the static discharge of another lightning bolt striking the apex above them.

"Worried your skills can't repair us?" Ironhide teased back.

"Repair yes, fix your ugly faceplates, impossible," the medic retorted.

"Ugly? I ain't the one that changed my paint job," Ironhide said.

"You look like Dr Minty with those colors, white and green," Wheeljack teased.

"That's the pot calling the kettle black, since you are white and green too 'Jack," Ironhide grunted.

Whatever reply he would have given was lost as a Cybertron signal began flashing across their sensor array. "Seeker!" Wheeljack identified first, transforming up as his shoulder cannon pulled out of subspace onto his shoulder. The civilian scientist moved quicker, his transform less complicated and enhanced with his own inventions than the other Autobots. As fast as he was, even his targeting missed the screaming Seeker jet that dove for them, releasing a small grey shape into the mud before racing back up into the dark storm clouds. Ironhide fired off one blast from his cannons, missing by a cable's breath as Prime's ion blast crossed it, also a miss.

"What is it?" Prime asked, waiting for Wheeljack and Ratchet to scan it. Wheeljack shrugged human style, picking it between his white armored fingers.

"Sam's cell phone, I think. It's damaged almost beyond recognition," he held it out for the others to see. Both Optimus' and Ironhide's optics dimmed as they reached for Bumblebee on all frequencies. Optimus hesitated, tracing his Prime link to the yellow mech.

"He is online, near the city park but not answering our calls," Optimus confirmed as Ironhide transformed down, racing off. "Transform and follow." Sounds of transformation echoed across the deserted lake before engines more powerful than any earth factory could make engaged.

::The damage rendered it incapable of transmitting following the extreme heat but this paper surrounding it. I do not recognize the symbols painted across it though they appear a variation of Cybertronian:: Wheeljack trailed off, relaying the images as they rolled onto the main road.

::I do. They are references to the official Senate records. Every politician learned them for tracking records beyond your current database:: Ratchet identified over the comm frequency.

::What is the message?:: Optimus asked, swerving out and around a human driver semi with a skill no human could match. His multiple wheels never lost traction in the mud and side gravel before rolling back onto the road.

::You are next, Lockdown:: Ratchet spelled out the answer.

::Lockdown?" Who the pit is Lockdown? And nice driving Prime:: Wheeljack commented as the semi alt mode slipped narrowly between a slower moving station wagon and the concrete pillar of an overpass support.

::An assassin. Knew him on Cybertron. He had a flawless record, until now:: Ironhide growled.

::Why now?:: Wheeljack speed up, staying close to Optimus' bumper as they continued racing in and out of traffic.

::Because whoever he is after, I ain't going to let 'im. He succeeded once, now he owes me his face:: Ironhide

::Who was the target? Closing on Bumblebee's last known location, keep your scanners peeled:: Optimus ordered.

::Chromia's parental mech. She and I were to be spark bonded during the mid solstice eclipses with him providing the party afterward. Only Lockdown took his spark:: the ancient warrior mech practically spit the words out in his anger. ::He was my friend. And I ain't losing another::

_To be continued..._


	27. Chapter 27 Aftermath

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. A Decepticon point of view this time around. And I do have other fics for fun reading. Both of the "Y_ou know you're addicted_" fics are stories based on those lists mentioned here. Sorry for the delay in posting. Life has become crowded and I am also fostering 2 kittens for a local cat shelter after their momma cat died. Getting up every couple of hours to feed them and work related stress does not help the creative brain. Big thanks to my friends for helping me stay sane and understanding being a TF fan.

I do not own Transformers, any of the human actors or rights to the films. I am only taking them out for a spin. Onward to saying things we never thought we would.

**TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TRANSFORMERS**

Prowl, the Autobot Second in Command, designated tactician and strategist regarded the human size paper lying on his desktop with the look he normally reserved for prank pulling twins, minibots in trouble and neuron ache causing disasters. "Why does this list keep reappearing?" His armored fingers grasping the document held it up to the light, revealing the hidden writing even though his optics could scan down to the paper's microfibers.

_You know you're addicted to humans when: _

_25. You spend more time choosing a Halloween costume adjustment than you did choosing an earth alt mode. _

_26. You incorporate Cybertronian based technology into human Halloween costumes without clearing said design with their guardian, Autobot command or appropriate medical staff. *Wheeljack, Perceptor and Hound._

_27. You have ever tried jumping into a pile of fall leaves, a snow bank or "cannonball" into a swimming area. _

_28. You know human clothes well enough to not only advise on color and size but also assist in the repair and adjusting of clothes, even while on said human. _

_29. You realize the Easter bunny, Santa Claus, Great Pumpkin, the tooth fairy, elves, vampires, mummies, zombies, and werewolves are not real and explains why the traps you laid to catch them to protect your humans were always empty. *Ironhide and Bumblebee._

_30. You have ever identified a human injury or medical condition as a "boo boo," owie, bad place, tummy ache, or promise to "make it better," when you are not a medic._

Outside angry shouts followed by screeching tires had the security officer calculating the probabilities of whom and how long they would spend in the brig this time. Vaguely Prowl wondered if the Decepticons were as much a problem to command. "Then again," he reasoned. "Decepticons do not follow rules."

High above the planet, Megatron, self-proclaimed Decepticon War Lord and former High Lord Protector of Cybertron coasted through earth's magnetosphere. The ancient mech felt the solar wind and earth's magnetic field flowing over his outer armor as he descended to the waiting coordinates. The atmospheric gases reflecting blue light, creating the halo effect of blue surrounding earth brought a sneer to his hidden faceplates. "Blue for beauty and weak plated fools," he processed. "Blue like Prime's optics, blue like the NEST soldiers flag colors. Red is better. Red for our optics to remind them of their madness. Red for power and pushing beyond your limits."

The silver reconnaissance satellite tracked closer, its geosynchronous orbit ignored as Megatron waited. His sensors aiming at the planet, expecting his contact to soar to meet him. It was not until the satellite crossed behind that the attached energy signature registered. Spinning in place, the Decepticon transformed out of his tank like alt mode to face his third in command. ::What in pit are you doing to that satellite? And what happened to your planet mode?:: Megatron

::Communicating. Planet bound modes obsolete:: Soundwave answered. Sunlight reflected off his silver wings, flaring to the sides like broken bolts of lightning.

::Obsolete? If necessary, you will choose one. Until then, continuing monitoring. Status of my command?:: Megatron ordered, his optics tracing the multiple tentacles wrapped around and into the satellite from the other mech before returning to the mech's silver masked face.

::Decepticons in brig:: Soundwave intoned. His red optics observed and catalogued the other mech's smallest betrayal of movements and expression. He could have explained only the weightlessness of space allowed his fiber lines to work but he didn't. They would be transformed back under his armor plating if and when he landed, to be dealt with then.

::Did they discover our base or Starscream lead another failed attack?:: Megatron asked, almost relieved. The Autobots might question them but their high morals meant free repairs and free energon for the captives. His troops would not be offlined and provided the opportunity to gather information on interactions with those disgusting flesh creatures. A weakness to exploit and use against the Autobots. For now, he needed to know who and how the capture happened. And grind the fool responsible underneath his footpad.

::Negative. Own brig:: Soundwave answered.

::Who?:: Megatron asked, realizing his first task would not be recharging or refueling before beginning negotiations with Autobots but dealing with errant troops.

::All not med bay:: Soundwave

The Decepticon leader shuttered his optics, processors calculating if he wanted to really know. ::Explain:: Megatron

::Cassettes self endangered, foolish:: Soundwave. The front panel on his chest lit, showing multiple images. Megatron watched, floating in the atmosphere as low-level jets kept their orbits synched. He ran a silver armored hand across his red optics, trying to correlate the information.

::Ratbat tried accessing the space shuttle controls and accidentally became trapped inside the wiring, launching into space with it. Laserbeak is missing, last seen at a hang gliding festival on the beach. Ravage and Rumble mistook a fireworks stand for a temporary weapons armory. Then attempted to test one of the mini rockets inside it once they released their mistake, and both mechs are now in repair bay? Why didn't you send of the others to find me on Cybertron? We are building a spacebridge, they knew this:: Megatron summarized.

:: Seekers missing:: Soundwave

::Which seekers?:: Megatron asked, lower level processors already plotting the course back to Cybertron if he left in the next breem. Maybe watching long-term construction was not as boring as he had processed.

::All. Behavior unacceptable. Punishment advised:: Soundwave reported.

::What did they do?:: Megatron

Again, the communications officer's front panel displayed images. Images of them and high grade, the Cybertron equivalent of alcohol, triggered the frown on Megatron's faceplates as he summarized.

::Starscream and Thundercracker captured weather sensor array balloons, which they tied on the green Porsche vehicle belonging to the Witwicky parental unit before releasing it near Diego Garcia? Skywarp stole a human SWAT van to give Barricade new toys for his hologram. Then Dirge and Thrust stole an entire pallet of white soft paper material and covered the dwelling belonging to that human pest Lennox with it?:: Megatron

::Human term toilet paper:: Soundwave

::Why cover their property with it? It is not a weapon or causing of significant damage:: Megatron pondered.

::Human tradition:: Soundwave

Vaguely Megatron wondered if the Autobots were as much a problem to command.

**_You know you are a Decepticon Commander when:_**

_a. You choose a powerful weapon transform but make the mistake of it not being mobile. _

_b. You do not need friends, only an army._

_c. Your plans are brilliant if only the universe would cooperate._

_d. You do not care about femmes, only power interests you and femmes require too much attention, time and are a weak link to attack you through. _

_e. Family can be the most difficult to deal with, especially your brother Orion Pax turned Optimus Prime._

_f. You worry more about your own troops offlining you than any Autobot._

_g. You can blast any bot under you who fails to get a report done or reports to duty on time._

_h. Your best fighters are also the biggest pains in the aft, otherwise known as Seekers._

_i. You state the obvious in battle like "Attack, retreat" or call out another mech like "Prime!" in battle because no one really pays attention to anything but saving their own shell and you were always good at multi tasking._

_j. You swear your enemies find the most disgusting looking races to ally with against you._

**_You know you are a Decepticon second in command when:_**

_a. Your most powerful weapon is your leader in his transform alt mode in your hands and how good you look in battle holding him._

_b. You do not need friends, only other seekers. Even though they never listen to you!_

_c. Your plans are brilliant if only Megatron would listen._

_d. You do not care about femmes; you are too in love with yourself. _

_e. Who needs family with a trine? _

_f. You plot more to overthrow your leader than any Autobot._

_g. You can scream out and insult any bot under you who fails to get a report done or reports to duty on time_

_h. Your fellow Seekers are loyal to a fault and a pain in the aft for getting into trouble. _

_i. You scream in battle because no one really pays attention anyways and if you are loud enough and he or she might hear you._

_j. When you thought no fighters could be smaller or carry lighter weapons than Rumble or Frenzy the Autobots find humans._

**_You know you are a Decepticon communications officer:_**

_a. Your most powerful weapon is how often they under guess what you can do._

_b. You do not need friends, only the ability to read their processing secrets. _

_c. Your plans belong to you alone and are wonderful tools for adding to your blackmail pile. _

_d. You would like to find a femme but they never talk to you longer than two minutes. And you worked so hard on your four word pick up lines too. Maybe five words would be better next time?_

_e. You carry your family behind your chest simulated glass slide window. _

_f. You fear the day you may have to be in command and deal with the rest of the gang._

_g. You can interrogate and discover the real reason any bot under you fails to get a report done or reports to duty on time_

_h. Your cassettes are your greatest joy and processor ache at the same time. _

_i. Why must the others be so talkative in battle? And at base, when refueling and any other time? Is the concept of silence so hard to understand?_

_j. Finally a race your cassettes can intimidate and be taller than._

**Story Arc **

**Time for a Change (Part 3)**

In the Autobot med bay at Diego Garcia, Optimus ' armored hand rested against the force field, his optics never leaving the fluctuating life signs monitors. The straight tan walls of med bay quietly absorbed the sound of his venting and masking the sound of the double doors sliding open. The yellow chassis resting below the field on the medical berth remained still and quiet.

"Processed I would find you here. It's the middle of the night Prime, you should be recharging," Ratchet's tired vocal sounded.

"So should you," Optimus looked over his shoulder, his blue optics noting the uneven gait and heavier footpad placement of his friend. "You haven't recharged since we found them."

"Neither have you. Major Lennox is with his mate, and the twins released Ironhide from the brig into Chromia's care," the medic reported.

"Where is he now?"

"On his way here I'm guessing. I tried reasoning with him, for all the good it did," Ratchet rubbed at his wrist transformation plate and its newly acquired dent with his other armored hand. "Prime, you both are too close to the situation. The fact we had to brig Ironhide to prevent him blasting everything even vaguely Decepticon proves that. Bumblebee is a capable warrior, you saw the aftermath," the medic gently reminded.

Optimus vented roughly, his memory processors replaying the scene. A battered, damaged Bumblebee laying on his side by the road's edge, blue energon dripping down his faceplates to mingle with the falling rainwater. A severed metal arm lying at his feet pads nearly sent the ancient Prime into overdrive before the green and black armor coloring registered. 'Black and not yellow' Optimus processed. 'Not a human arm either.' Audios heard a familiar voice moaning out the drainage pipe nearby. "Sam? Sam!"

The force field deactivating brought Optimus back to the present. He reached down, engulfing the smaller yellow armored hand inside his own.

"Bumblebee's battle mask was torn off, making it look worse than it was. The other damage was repairable since his spark is intact and the parts replaceable with what we have here. He might even get the gold paint job he joked about last orn. Electro stunners are nasty, you know that," Ratchet said.

Optimus nodded, having banned them from use by any of his forces. "How soon until both my sons are online?"

"Sam is neurologically stunned, alive with bruising and dermal scrapes. He suffered far worse bringing you back with the Matrix," Ratchet reassured. His multi layered optics dialed in tight, scanning the prone human figure lying on the smaller medical berth to the side. "He'd be conscious now except for the pain. After effect of the stunner. The charge is absorbing into Sam's system. Until Bumblebee is awake or the residual charge totally gone, I'm keeping him sedated."

"And you old friend?"

"My recharge timer is set to yours Prime. You tell me when we are going to get a good rest," he said. "And if you are guessing how far to extend before we both tip into forced stasis you should know I tied the readings into the systems of two others of our team."

"Prowl and Ironhide? He should be here shortly," Optimus acknowledged.

"When have they been able to pound sense into your blue plated dome? Elita and Moonracer. If we are going to flatten out into our recharge berths," he said.

"Make sure the femmes are there too?"

"No wonder you have a sparkling. I was processing they are both medically trained. First Aid and Rone could dual handle any emergencies while our femmes tend to us. Refuel and reset. Though Prowl and Ironhide are good choices too."

If Optimus were pushed, he would swear that Ratchet was the most intelligent mech in his army. Or very close to it. No bot put things over the CMO. "Neither could replace me as Prime," he said, his blue optics speculative

"Don't even suggest it. The Matrix would never force a healer to become a Prime if another choice, any other choice existed. There are too few of our race with the skill to mend both broken processors and memory cores. I chose to be a politician and use my skills to create laws to help those in need. Then the Fallen detonated charges under the main hall," Ratchet closed his optics, remembering the day his existence changed. "My concern was not the datapads on my desk, or rather scattered across the floor at that point. I did not join the arguments about who would lead until the next election. I began digging, freeing trapped mechs, sealing their wounds with my laser. I liked to sculpt, that is why I had the laser installed."

"Where you any good?"

"No, though various femmes that received my pieces pretended to appreciate them," he chuckled.

"That bad?"

"The last one ended up being donated to the abstract collection attached to the hall of records," Ratchet admitted. "It remained a centerpiece for vorns until the hall collapsed in that sneak attack."

"I believe our tacticians figured out their strike team read the map upside down. A rather fitting end to an abstract art collection," Optimus chuckled. One final scan of the life monitors reassured him. "Rest Ratchet. I am returning to my quarters. No need to worry Elita. Bumblebee and Sam are young and strong and in the best of medical care." Optimus left med bay, the unspoken request that he would be notified the astro second their condition changed, either way.

_To be continued..._


	28. Chapter 28 Wings, rules and a hook

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Okay, this chapter was not supposed to be Ironhide and Annabelle or as long but it ended up that way. It is more light hearted and fun to counter the darker story arc. Thanks to fellow writers and friends for understanding or at least enduring my TF geekiness and for making suggestions. Onward to what you think happened - didn't.

TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TRANSFORMERS

Major Will Lennox leaned over the metal railing, recognizing the high-pitched excited squealing of his daughter. Soldiers in the hanger barely noticed, long used to her at the NEST base. His smile matched hers as Annabelle glanced up long enough to wave a greeting before running towards the Transformers, passing under the communications platform.

"No running! Safety first!" He yelled, knowing she wouldn't slow down but her Guardian would mention it to her later. Rapidly descending the stairs, he was more listening to the laughter and her school report than watching where he put his feet. The first step on the concrete floor had him skidding to a stop. The white armored wall of metal fingers before him lifting to reveal Ratchet's disapproving frown.

"That includes you Major. The most common fall injuries to children are from tripping on stairs. As a parental unit you should set a better example," the medic said.

"I'll keep that in mind thanks," Will said, knowing better than to argue as he walked towards the others.

"But it's so boring! Math should be fun like science and all they give us is charts to memorize. I can do formulas to discover stuff even if it takes awhile and trying again and again. Wheeljack showed me how," Annabelle finished. Her blond hair swung as she bounced around them in her excitement.

"Remind me to have a discussion with Wheeljack," Will said before moving to hug his daughter. "I have a meeting and will see you at lunch. Think you can stay out of trouble that long?" Her nod and bright smile reassured him she wanted to, reassuring him no mischief was planned. At least not yet.

"Ready to go youngling?" Ironhide asked, lowering his hand to the concrete floor.

"I don't want to go with you," she answered to everyone's shock.

"Uh, honey, are you sure?" Will asked, bending down closer to her. A quick field type check for injuries or obvious signs of distress came up empty.

"I want to tag along with Prowl," Annabelle announced.

"Me?" Prowl asked the same instant Ironhide exclaimed "Him!"

"Yes, if that is okay?" Annabelle looked up at her guardian as emotions shifted rapidly across his faceplates. Wordlessly he nodded, too confused and even a little hurt to vocalize an answer. Smiling, the human joy to his spark walked across to the black and white second in command before sitting on his offered hand. Rising in the air, she waved at Ironhide before hidden from view behind a wide back with attached wing doors.

Crossing the tarmac, their behavior seemed similar but contrasted differently. Annabelle watched for tropical birds in the palm trees as Prowl scanned for Decepticon cassette aerial spies. She laughed at the soldiers trying to roll the fifty-gallon barrels down a ramp without losing them. He texted their Sergeant, asking him to remind them of proper loading and unloading procedures before relaying an anonymous request to the human medical team to ready their x-ray machine, as a precaution. The building door opened, a use of Annabelle's Prime gift as Prowl calculated the reason she wanted to see him, both distracted as they reached their destination.

"I assume there is a purpose to your accompanying me young Prime?" Prowl asked, lowering her to his desktop. Asking her was the quickest way to discover the reason per his calculations.

"I want to help with the rules," she stated as though it should have been clear. Her blue eyes crinkled as her smile widened.

"My duties entail more than rule making. As a leader you have to enforce rules, not necessarily make them. Critical decisions, on and off the battlefield, are required of a Prime," the black and white mech gently reminded. His audios caught the crinkle as the paper shifted in her pocket again. Manners kept him from scanning to see it inside her jumpsuit pocket.

"I know that," Annabelle spun in a circle on his desktop before beginning to tick off points on her fingers. "You help Optimus make plans to keep everybot safe in a battle and chase off the bad guys; you yell at the twins when they are bad. You skip refueling and even recharging when working. And your friends miss you. I bet you have not even been outside except moving between the buildings. You have not played a game, looked up at the stars or anything but your work. Right?" She giggled then leaned closer, peering at him. " You okay? You seem funny. You're not getting sick are you?" the little girl asked as his optics shuttered rapidly and the wing doors on his back normally rotated to the sides shot straight up.

"I do more than that," Prowl answered, his systems confirming most of his time that week to even that month had been dealing with infractions, monitoring the brig and designing battle plans should the Decepticons attack in a populated area again. Crowd control was fast becoming a personal nightmare as no tactic ensured full protection of the Autobots or the humans caught in between the Transformer weaponry. 'How did I not notice the pattern? Focusing on my work and forgetting to schedule time for myself lately?' he wondered.

Crinkling of paper drew his attention back to the tiny human girl now sitting on his desk with her feet folded. Her hand held it out to him even as his advanced optics scanned it down to the micro fibers making up the paper.

"Most of these exist in already in their intent," Prowl recognized, politely taking it from her.

"But they are not spiff...speck...spick..."

"Specific enough?"

"Yah, I mean yes," she corrected herself. "Like number four and five."

_4. Do not tease warrior mechs about their weapons. They shoot when they have too and have nightmares later. Please give them a toy to snuggle and leave a night light on when they are upset._

_5. Do not be mean to mechs with big weapons. They keep you safe. They should be hugged a lot and told what a good job they do._

"There is more to our existence than weapons, Annabelle you know this. Moreover, we are not mean to Ironhide. If anything, he is grumpy at times," Prowl commented.

"Grumpy is Ratchet. Sometimes I think he has forgotten how to laugh. Daddy says he sees only hurt and pain and that makes him sad. That is why he does not smile. Optimus is nice," her expression brightened. "And he has a big axe, a big gun and two big swords. But the Decepticons are mean to him and the government people too. Daddy talks about them but not to me. I overhear him a lot." Her voice dropped to a whisper, every syllable clear to Prowl's enhanced hearing. "He and Epps swear which makes mommy mad but I learn from them. Who is nice and who is a dumb aft paper pusher."

"I'm sure you do," Prowl stated, activating his internal comm. ::Ironhide, please come get Annabelle from my office::

::Why? She need a lift to the next mech she wants to spend time with?:: Ironhide answered almost immediately, his normal mental tone cold and flat feeling.

::She has completed her task for the day. Handing me a list of rules to make your life easier:: Prowl

::She what?:: Ironhide

::Annabelle worried about the twins and others upsetting you and wanted to make rules protecting you:: Prowl sent.

::Don't need protecting:: Ironhide protested, emotion warming across the signal.

::No, though according to her you need more hugs and the occasional replicate ursus americanus to recharge with:: Prowl

::A what? You mean teddy bear. Human tradition:: Ironhide chuckled ::Be right there::

Reaching in his top desk drawer, the magnetic tip of his finger unsealed a small silver box. Removing the candy dish inside, Prowl offered it to Annabelle. "For later," he said, keeping a smile hidden as the child grabbed a plastic wrapped snack and hid it in her pocket. The door to his office opened, his systems already identifying the mech waiting to enter.

"Hide!" Annabelle cheered, the way she sprung to her feet with both arms outstretched erasing any doubt in his processor. Huge black armored hands engulfed her thin shape, cradling it and bringing her to his chest plates.

"Ready to go?"

"Always! I want to go to the range and a drive and play at my castle. I even brought my new swimsuit. Guess what color it is?" She giggled, patting his armored fingers with both her hands.

"Black?"

"No, white! So you can see me easier," Annabelle corrected. "Blue matches the water and the sky and yellow the sand and black is okay for some things but not a swimsuit. Mom and I looked all over to find a white one! And sandals to match!"

Prowl's hearing discerned her voice all the way down the corridor as she continued talking about clothes and shoes, a subject still mysterious to him. A fleeting line of code formed in his processor and he acted on it.

::Ironhide?:: Prowl sent.

::What?:: Ironhide

::Remember this when she starts dating:: Prowl

::Dating her calendar?:: Ironhide asked, his confusion evident.

::Dating human boys and staying out late past curfew with them. Another human tradition:: Prowl teased. The tactician counted the astro seconds before the startled shout rang down the hallway.

**_276. You know you are youthful Autobot when:_**

_a. You try not to mention your age and remind every bot how young you are. _

_b. You have a Cybertronian true name and an earth name that is cute or friendly. _

_c. Your chassis design is armored, built for battle and minimizes energon use. And it is all you have ever known._

_d. You only have seen pictures of Iacon as a city and have no living memory of it before the last dome became a war citadel. _

_e. You are still filling your first memory core. Bumblebee_

_f. You think the most important question is finding a femme as a mate._

_g. Responsibility is a vague term you are still learning and trying to fulfill to the best of your understanding._

_h. You have only worked with the Autobots against the Decepticons. _

_i. You have more in common with human teenagers than other Autobots. _

_j. Ratchet is threatening to leave you injured next time instead of full repairs to teach you to be more careful. (he is kidding, you hope)_

_k. Prowl has several rules thanks to your actions. _

_l. Optimus as Prime is a living example of what you want to be at his age. _

_m. You are among the last of the generations sparked. _

**_277. You know you are mature Autobot when:_**

_a. Age is relative. All your relatives are about the same age and still around to remind you of it. _

_b. You have a Cybertronian true name, an earth name to represent skill or fighting capability and several nicknames you probably want to forget._

_c. Your helm or face plates have details that changed in later generations but reflect generations that went before._

_d. You raced over Iacon's bridges._

_e. You have more than one memory core in use. _

_f. You think your sparklings might live long enough to see Cybertron at peace, and the war finished._

_g. Responsibility is a burden but you will not set aside all that you have worked for. _

_h. You worked with neutrals or Autobots. _

_i. You have more in common with the other command officers than the troops under you._

_j. Ratchet has to replace the part instead of repair. It is too old and too worn for anything else._

_k. Prowl has several pages of rules thanks to your actions._

_l. Optimus as Prime is a rank you hope to never have to replace if anything happens to him. Again. _

_m. You have seen at least one generation created after you. _

**_278. You know you are ancient Autobot when:_**

_a. Age is a number. A big, long number you never use around humans or younger bots. _

_b. Your original designation was a star name like Orion, Ariel, Dion or a characteristic like Little Blast and Swift feet._

_c. Your chassis remains one of the first with transform ability. _

_d. You designed, helped build or repair Iacon's bridges. *Optimus Prime_

_e. Half your spare space contains memory cores._

_f. You think there is still a chance for Cybertron to be at peace but know the golden age is gone forever. _

_g. Responsibility rules your life to the point having fun or shirking your duties is a rare treat._

_h. You worked with neutrals, Autobots, and civilians including other races. _

_i. You have more in common with your parental generation than those around you. _

_j. Ratchet reminds you of how many times he has repaired or replaced that part and grumps about the next time. _

_k. Prowl has a datapad of rules thanks to your actions. _

_l. You are proud to be alongside Optimus as Prime from his first days to now. _

_m. Your generation is beyond grandparent as humans use the term. _

**_279. You know you are first through third generation Autobot when:_**

_a. You do not even know how old you are and guessing makes you depressed. However, you are the first to remind every bot else, you are the oldest or close to it still in existence to value your experience._

_b. Your original designation was a letter and number like A3, L5 or Alpha, Beta, Gamma. _

_c. They don't make chassis builds like they use to. _

_d. You help design, build or repair the foundations for the city of Iacon. *Kup_

_e. Your oldest memory cores are in storage. You fit what you can but hey, your chassis has limits._

_f. You know the only thing you can control in the universe is whether you are good or evil._

_g. Responsibility is what you try to teach all those that come after you. _

_h. Any mech or femme was simply a Cybertronian. _

_i. You have very little in common with those turbo revving punks other than you use to be that age once._

_j. Ratchet consults you for repairs, knowing your parts and systems predates his medical training. _

_k. You teach the rules to Prowl. Kid needs all the help he can get. _

_l. Optimus as Prime makes you think of the Primes that came before him, the ones that were your friends at least. _

_m. How many generations before you came along? Not many but you are the best still online. _

"Annabelle loves her faerie wings," Ironhide acknowledged. Walking alongside Wheeljack, the ancient weapons specialist broader heavier build dwarfed the other mech. The tropical breeze brought the salt smell of sea air and the faint crashing of ocean waves across the darkness. Soldiers voices carried, exchanging patrol codes as they passed each other by the outer fence perimeter. Ironhide's armor remained barely visible under the building lights as they continued towards the main hangar.

"They were hard to make under short notice," Wheeljack admitted, his white armor reflecting the faint moonlight. "But a costume ball is not to be missed. Though I understand no balls are involved but balloons at Annabelle's elementary school tomorrow."

"School dance according to Will. Sarah is chaperoning and I will monitor from the parking lot. Who knows what hides behind those disguises," he said.

"We have disguises," Wheeljack reminded, both sidebars flashing brightly.

"So do the 'Cons. Afraid her request for wings meant seeker type until I saw her book."

"Matching the picture a piece of carbarundum cake. Adjusting the anti gravity lifts, that was hard. She is lighter than a second shell sparkling," Wheeljack said.

"Anti gravity!" Ironhide's black armored hands reached out, pulling the inventor up nearly faceplate to faceplate. "You didn't."

"I did."

"Why?" He growled, red streaks began to flow across the intense blue of his optics.

"Wings are meant to fly? I put the upper limit at five hundred pounds human range for lift," Wheeljack said, the green blue of his side panels proving his innocence.

"How are they powered?" The fingers tightening on the other's metal plating.

"Light. But I set a timer!" He vented, his hands pulling at the black armored ones holding him. "Sunlight would have charged them too quickly and other humans might have seen her in the air. Moonlight is the trigger, like in her book. I thought tonight was a good test, before the dance," the inventor replied. They both glanced up, the full moon clear in the night sky.

:: Annabelle is in the air! Some slagging bot with wings retrieve her now!:: Ironhide's mental voice roared over their comm on every frequency, a trace of panic beneath his anger.

:: Did you say in the air?:: Sideswipe

::Humans do not fly! Do they?:: Override

::Only if inside us:: Blades

:: Actually they have hang gliders, parachutes, self-propelled experimental jet packs, blimps and hot air balloons to name a few that are none of our alt modes. Though they rarely survive the landing from crashes involving those modes. However, statistically flying is safer than driving an automobile unless the car is us. Our alt modes are quite safe outside of battle on human roads, obeying their laws. :: Bluestreak

:: Decepticon or human craft?:: Silverbolt's calm command tone interrupted. The leader of the Aerialbots moved into view, transforming down into his jet form as four more Cybertronian shapes began their transformations to aerial craft on the tarmac.

:::Neither. Wheeljack made her wings!:: Ironhide sent, tagging on a file containing the inventor's design.

::This is better than the weather drill:: Fireflight

::The drill where you sucked a balloon accidentally into your engines or the one where it wrapped around your landing gear and had to be cut away?:: Slingshot

::Who bent your wings? My score still topped yours:: Air Raid

::When we find her, what's the best way to get her in the cockpit if she is still rising or moving? Disable the power unit with weapons fire?::Skydive

::No, too risky to the human. Turn upside down and let her float into your cockpit and close the hatch:: Air Raid

::And hurt her turning right side up slow wing! We're Aerialbots not a spin dryer:: Fireflight

::Any bot know how then?:: Skydive

::When located, transform and secure. Call me and you both can ride home in my cargo bay to hide your true form:: Silverbolt

::No energy signature, no metal to track. This is harder than I first processed:: Air Raid

::Consider of it a stealth exercise. Subject is using a cloaking field and retrievable fully intact for questioning later:: Silverbolt

::You mean no flying over her accidentally:: Skydive

::That's why Blades is grounded. His helicopter blades would dice and slice her if not careful:: Slingshot

::I heard that! I'm on standby for the parental unit to be flown to her location if necessary:: Blades

::Aerialbots, focus on finding her, chatter later. Switch all communications to our internal gestalt link please:: Silverbolt ordered.

The Aerialbots excited conversation as they took to the air did little to relieve Ironhide's stress level. The touch of Optimus' hand on his shoulder plate nearly sent his cannon into firing mode. "They will find her," the Prime comforted. Prowl rolled into view, transforming into his bi pedal mode to coordinate the search.

"I shouldn't have lost her," Ironhide grumbled.

"Lost who?"

Sets of blue optics snapped to the ground, a seven year old blond haired blue eyed human girl, yawning and rubbing at her eyes standing there. Her eyes widened with the speed black armored hands wrapped around her, lifting and cradling.

"Annabelle, where are your wings youngling?" he held her tightly.

"In the remembrance garden. The statue by Jetfire's memory flame. It looked so pretty with them," she yawned again. "Like an angel. The wings were itching me so I gave them to her. Then I got sleepy."

"Statue? The solid stone human girl with the water pitcher statue?" Prowl asked, his optics narrowing as calculations ran.

"Why?" Optimus asked, feeling the beginning of a neuron ache.

"It's missing. I noted it gone en route here but figured it was unrelated. Probably a twin prank and it would turn up later spray painted in someone's room," Prowl said.

"The itching must have been the power core building up to full flight. Annabelle's outer dermal layering would have registered it as itching. Have to adjust for that next time," the civilian inventor reasoned. The sudden his faceplate to end of a rolling fully charged war cannon had him processing. "Not a next time? Bad idea?"

"Right answer," the ancient mech grunted, still holding Annabelle. The faint curve of a smile appeared on his black armor faceplates as her eyes closed into full sleep. The rolling cannon stilled, the charge dissipating back into his systems as he walked away, cradling her the entire way to his quarters.

She never moved when he laid her down between his little mech sparkling Ram and his sparkling femme Darkstar inside the portable recharge bunk in the main room.

"Looks right somehow," Chromia murmured, walking softly into the small side room that was their private recharge area.

"Her with our sparklings?" He looked back at them, ensuring the main door was locked and secured.

"Two femme sparklings to outnumber the mech. Automatic win on every vote. Unless you can process a way to get another mech for a stalemate," the blue armored femme teased, pulling back the recharge berth cover.

"Two huh? I can arrange that," he teased, moving his lip plates down her neck cabling while his hands began sliding up her lower armor. The door slid close, blocking any possible sights and sounds to the kids in the main room.

The next morning the statue remained missing despite the best attempts to locate it. Reports began filtering in from the India continent about possible sightings but the military locked them down, classifying them with the UFO and weather balloon reports. As in reports to be ignored, not believed and left to the regional authorities to deal with.

Wheeljack figured the wings power unit would self destruct without maintenance in two years earth time. The power unit lasted under one year, not designed for frigid air temps and bright sun before shattering apart, the statue landing in a snow pack on the side of a mountain. The local villagers appreciated the garden statue even if they could never explain how or why it appeared.

**Story Arc **

**Time for a Change (Part 4)**

Outside of his personal quarters, the ancient Prime turned the corner and hesitated, recognizing two things. Ironhide standing there and the flaring aura of his energy field signal. A sign of his temper and determination. "Out of the brig and you come here?"

"Prime, you need to talk to Ratchet," Ironhide said, his optics noting the other's sagging shoulder plates and the shorter steps of his broad feet pads.

"I just did in med bay. Bumblebee is recovering and we need to recharge to be alert when he wakens."

"I sent Ratchet there. Safest place on base when not with Moonracer or me. He's refusing my protection," Ironhide palmed the door opened, gesturing him in.

"From?"

"Lockdown. The message foretold his target," the ancient weapons specialist vocal was grim.

Optimus optics widened as the meaning sunk in his processor. "A message coding only Ratchet could read," he said.

"That pit spawned freak 'Con owes me his other arm, his face and everything in between," Ironhide growled. "You recharge here. Elita is finishing her team's mission and should arrive back to Diego Garcia shortly. I'll be in my quarters waiting for Chromia. Once Bumblebee awakens, I go hunting."

**Decepticon base**

"Report," Soundwave intoned, turning to face the new arrival to the command center. The tall green and black armored mech ignored him and the seekers at the various monitor stations. "Report," he repeated. Lockdown made a gesture towards Soundwave, the metal stub of his arm an obvious rebuke.

"Prime battle?" Soundwave asked, catching the fleeting image of Bumblebee from the other mech's processors.

"Not yet, though it will be a matter of time before he is targeted," Lockdown snarled back.

"You are dripping on the clean floor!" Starscream complained, the high pitched seeker's voice deepening the snarl on Lockdown's face plates.

"Slag me!"

"Looks like some bot already did!" Starscream retorted.

"It's one arm and replaceable. And I achieved my primary goal," Lockdown bragged.

"Getting your aft kicked and retreating here?" Skywarp guessed.

"I didn't retreat. The goal is to hurt those he cares about. One by one, I will attack those closest to Ratchet. Letting him watch them in pain and suffering wondering what injuries I will inflict on him when we meet faceplate to faceplate," Lockdown said.

"Or what part that medic will rip off you instead of an arm. His power saw transform takes off parts real good," Thundercracker quipped.

"If he is your target, attack. Sneak up on him and blast him! Make him drip energon," Starscream screeched.

"Stealth is not my way," Lockdown ground out, the pain sensor locks beginning to fail.

"Brute force approach? How is that working out for you stubby?" Skywarp chuckled, warping out in a flash of light as the other mech tried firing metal spikes where he had been standing.

"Report to Hook!" Starscream ordered. "Before you damage the ceiling. Only part of this command center you haven't messed up yet. Megatron will not be pleased."

"Report to Hook? Hook? Not a bad processing," Lockdown muttered, stomping out the door. That night, he reported back to the command deck, sporting a dual prong metal claw as his right arm replacement.

"Hey Ahab? Seen the whale lately?" Thundercracker greeted him.

"Ahab?" Starscream repeated, turning to glare.

"Human reference, unreachable target" Soundwave identified.

"I will take the Autobot medic's spark. My score of targets has been flawless until now."

"Don't you mean clawless until now?" Skywarp said, pointing at the odd appendage.

"I'd say clueless," Rumble added.

_To be continued..._


	29. Chapter 29 Training and learning

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. The neat thing about this site is anyone can write. If you think something is missing or your favorite character needs more attention, then write it. The thousands of stories here reflect a multitude of beliefs and views with room for more. And remember, every author has a first chapter of their first story. Reviews will follow. Otherwise sit back and enjoy. We are still going strong with more surprises and fun for your enjoyment.

This is for those who have had to sit through a boring training session per the company you work for. Oh for internal comms to talk with your coworkers. Onward to knowing the 'what' without understanding the 'why. '

TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TRANSFORMERS

"_Please stay on the line, your conference call will begin shortly."_

The monotone voice sounded from every speaker in the hangar as the waiting Autobots talked among themselves. Their conversation flowed effortlessly between them, interrupted only by the recording, its sound rough and without emotion. NEST soldiers in the hangar were few, the majority choosing the late afternoon training session the next day. The Transformers chose the night session, preferring the relative privacy.

"_Please stay on the line, your conference call will begin shortly."_

"Sounds like she has been hanging around Soundwave," Silverbolt commented. Leader of the Aerialbots and the main transport for those with earthbound vehicle modes, he rarely could attend conferences. His tall silver form barely fitting between fitting between the floor and arching metal roof, as long as he remained seated. His earlier comment, about making an instant skylight in the event of an emergency, more a warning than a joke though the assembled soldiers had laughed. "Is the rest of it going to be like this?" His blue optics focused at the other team leaders nearby.

"Nah, it is a holding message. Suppose to sound mechanical and flat," Ironhide answered first, optics intent on his right arm cannon as the last part folded back down. A final swipe of the polishing rag finished the cleaning, the rag disappearing back into subspace.

"We are mechanical, and we do not sound like that!" Wheeljack protested, the irritated orange red hue to his flashing sidebars emphasizing his opinion on the matter.

:: True. Every bot please switch to internal comms. The training is about to begin and with fewer interruptions, it will go faster:: Optimus ordered.

::How long do we have to be here?:: Huffer complained, his mini bot form nearly lost between Hound and Jazz.

::As long as necessary. This new computer system is installing across the majority of all the military bases. The printing company for the manuals is behind schedule hence this class. Our attendance is to allow a minimum of competence with accessing it and show support for our human allies. From all of us:: Optimus stated regally, his twenty-eight height making him one of the tallest mechs present.

::In other words, you want all of us to suffer with you and Prowl this time since normally you two alone attend these things:: Ratchet vented, crossing both arms across his front roll bar while pretending to look disgusted. The medic matched Optimus stare for stare, venting again when the larger mech smiled without answering then looked away.

"_Please stay on the line, your conference will begin shortly." _

::Does the message ever change?:: Mirage asked, his silver and blue form appearing literally out of the thin air as his cloak disengaged. Sitting down next to Hound and Silverbolt, he sub spaced out a bowl of aged energon snacks to share.

::Yah, gets more annoying the longer it plays:: Ironhide

Prowl consulted his datapad, confirming start times. 'I agree with him, the repetitiveness is annoying. Roll call complete, all mechs Prime requested are here. Silverbolt, Ultra Magnus, Ironhide, Ratchet, Kup, Hot Rod, Jazz, Wheeljack, Hound, Mirage, Huffer, and myself. Officers by command, others to keep them out of trouble.' His optics scanned quickly across Hot Rod, Jazz and Huffer.

::No femmes?:: Hot Rod noted, looking around.

::Mission on the mainland with the Lennox family and femmes of the base:: Kup reminded. The ancient blue Transformer moved stiffly, as much to conserve energy as to avoid damaging well worn gears and cables.

::Why is sparkmate precipitation so important?:: Hot Rod asked.

::Bridal showers do not involve rain. An earth celebration highly valued by the femmes of the species. Our femmes attend out of courtesy:: Prowl reminded. He took his customary place alongside of Optimus as his designated second in command.

::What do the mechs get then?:: Hot Rod opened both hands out to the side, palms up, his tall orange and yellow armored vivid against their more solid paint colors.

::Conference calls obviously:: Kup patted him on the shoulder plate, his optics narrowing as if daring any other mech to say otherwise. Though fully matured, he considered Hot Rod his youngling and human customs of bachelor parties not for his audios. Not yet at least.

"_Please stay on the line, your conference will begin shortly." _

::But will it be today?:: Ironhide grumped before looking up at the communications platform. His optics narrowed in on the only human not dressed like a soldier. His database instantly confirmed the man's image with the security file.

The man in the grey suit tapped the metal side rail for their attention. Average height, his brown hair and brown eyes fitted in an average face. No scars, tattoos or obvious marks marred his skin on either his hands or face. "I'm very excited to be presenting this material for your learning…."he said, adjusting his glasses.

::Liar!:: Ratchet said.

:: Translated I got the short blast cartridge:: Ironhide

:: The expression is short straw:: Hound corrected.

::Sure it is not short string?:: Huffer asked, waving a metal claw when Jazz pretended to measure his shorter height compared to the rest of the mechs nearby. ::No short jokes you::

::His boss may have pulled strings to get him sent out:: Ultra Magnus suggested. He turned, nearly whacking Hound across the head with his extended shoulder missiles. The green scout merely ducked, anticipating his movements.

::I think they are stringing us along. This is not training, it is torture. How we suppose to learn from this? We need to do, not hear about it:: Jazz quipped, his battle visor flaring left to right.

:Here here! I agree:: Wheeljack nodded, his lower silver face bars reflecting Jazz's visor blue.

"Thank you all for choosing to attend," the human began, standing still as he faced them for the first time.

::We have a choice?:: Hot Rod moved forward a step towards the main doors before looking back at his mentor. Kup shook his head side to side a no.

"The conference call links us to the tech division and two of our support offices. They are running the monitor display leaving me free to teach with no time lag at all," the man said, unfreezing as none of the Autobots appeared threatening.

::Woohoo! Modern human communications. Bore every bot at the same time:: Jazz

"This system is very robust, capable of pouring out all types of reports," he began. The monitor images changed, flashing various graphics of data charts from a scrolling list.

::Is this a computer program or a wine?:: Kup asked.

::Oh, quit whining. I have work to do in med bay, no time for reports on how many rolls of adding machine tape the government uses in a week:: Ratchet gestured as though crumpling the report and tossing it over his shoulder plates.

"Yes, you have a question already?" the man pointed at him.

"Does this system have any limits? My schedule is unpredictable," Ratchet smoothly covered.

"It is capable of twenty four seven three hundred sixty five day a year operating times even on holidays. And our call center is manned by real live humans the entire time," he responded, smiling at the interaction with the otherwise silent crowd. Silent as far as he knew.

::Great, no escape except in recharge:: Hound sagged, sliding down the wall to sit next to Silverbolt. Raising a green armored arm, he rested it on top of Huffer's orange armor plated head. Chuckling, Hound let Huffer slap at his arm before moving it away.

"It is built to last with easily accessible upgrades for operational error. A movement towards simplicity of design, solutions and processes. Eliminating most operator mistakes and providing an atmosphere of enhancements," he proudly pointed at the ever-changing display images.

::How about shortening that to 'no glitches, which we know of,':: Kup noted.

::More they reconfigured the coding and those glitches are now peripheral enhancements:: Wheeljack suggested, his sidebars flashing blue green.

::Like?:: Hot Rod

::Auto repeat printing so you always have a backup copy instead of dang, I do not know why it always duplicates everything on that screen:: Hound quipped, deliberately placing his arm back on Huffer's head.

::How about we help it out then?:: Mirage

::Out to play in traffic?:: Huffer suggested, ducking out and under Hound's arm while glaring.

::To help work out program bugs and glitches I think he meant:: Jazz

::I will gladly help it out. Which door did it come in?:: Ratchet

"The synergy of the whole is stupendous. Greater than the sum of its individual parts," the man said.

::Not for explosions. Too many and they cancel each other out:: Ironhide sent. The others all turned to look at him. :: What? My team is first in on rescue this month to the chemical weapon labs::

"Our company has the courage to stand alone," the man continued lecturing.

::See? We can leave:: Hot Rod started to rise to his feet pads

::Stay put:: Ultra Magnus and Optimus ordered at the same instant.

Ratchet pointed at his optics then at Hot Rod in the human gesture of 'I'm watching you.' The mech's rashness landed him often in med bay following battles with injuries preventable in the medic's opinion.

"Yes, the tall green and white one again. What is your question now?" The man pointed directly at Ratchet.

::Your arm is out as though asking for attention:: Optimus sent, his blue optics twinkling.

"This system is an improvement over the existing one and not a new company taking over a new contract?" Ratchet asked. He ignored the snickers from the other Autobots. They knew his feelings on anything new and newly assigned personnel started with borderline distrust and went downhill from there.

"Our systems are apart from the herd. Hard and fast running protocols system covering a vast expanse," he answered, typing out commands for the team controlling the monitor displays.

::Describing tactics or a cattle drive across the plains?:: Optimus asked, tilting his blue helm to the side.

::Been watching westerns again brother?:: Ultra Magnus sent, moving his hand in a mini circle to simulate a lasso rope spinning out of sight of the man on the platform.

::Leadership is more herding in the right direction and hope they learn the lesson intended: Optimus answered.

::As opposed to stampeding off the nearest cliffs?::Ultra Magnus

:: You can't win them all and I know a few Decepticons I would love to drop a herd onto. Wouldn't mind losing them at all:: Jazz sent.

::How about we lose this human and win a reprieve on our audios?:: Wheeljack

"We anticipate your needs and wants in our tech department," he said, pointing at the changing monitor graphics. Twenty minutes later the tech department skills were forgotten as the accounting department praise began.

::I need stimulation:: Hot Rod groaned, leaning his helm back against the hangar wall

::I need intelligent conversation:: Huffer said then hastily amended it when the others glared his way. ::Other than us Autobots. Do they humans pick the worse to lecture?::

::No, those are reserved for budget meetings:: Ultra Magnus

::Or government liaisons:: Optimus

A soft chime came from every speaker. The man on the platform stopped, blinking as the monitors froze with a ten-minute clock that began counting down towards zero.

"And that's our first hour. Please take a short break. Hold any questions until we convene. I need to step away for a minute," he said, moving to open his personal laptop at the nearest workstation and bring it online.

::Translated I need to check my face book wall. Nope, no messages:: Hound

::IM activated. Message from your office assistant, FBI agents are here in the lobby and I need to hide under my office desk until they pass by, brb:: Jazz

::Why the FBI?:: Silverbolt

::They want to see about dropping him in a foreign country to teach the locals. Weapon of mass boredom:: Jazz

The break ended, the man returning to his lecturing. "We use a wiki based tutorial and practice hours before using the live version. A complete data transfer to simplify the transition. If that doesn't work, you need to lower," the man hesitated as he looked for the setting on his laser remote.

::Your expectations:: Ultra Magnus

::Your hopes:: Huffer said.

::Your internal temperature to keep from slipping into recharge:: Hot Rod

::Slip? Hah! More like drowning in boredom and he is throwing anchors:: Kup grunted, shifting his legs together to fold halfway into his transform.

"The parameters of your searches and try simpler words," he lectured. Fifteen minutes late the lights dimmed, the monitors buzzed before graying out and displaying the same message.

"_We apologize. An error has occurred. Please try again."_

"Type this one code and we are reconnected," the human pointed at the grey monitors, which stayed grey. "Okay, try the code gain. No results." His fingers typed out the coding again and again.

::Why if it didn't work will trying again make it work now?:: Mirage asked, his blue optics targeting the nearest exit door and the distance required to cloak and go invisible to reach it.

::Definition of insanity, doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result:: Ratchet

::There you go Prime. No wonder you get frustrated:: Ultra Magnus teased

::I concur. Also explains you cracking through floors, walkways and crumpling poor defenseless chairs. Your mass is too heavy on this world:: Optimus teased right back.

:: My design is for combat not sitting at a desk, unlike other red and blue mechs I shall not name:: Ultra Magnus deliberately stared at Optimus.

"Minor technical difficulties but we are halfway through the first part. A system update will fix this. Let me check my e-mails. See if that patch is there from our tech department already," the man stated, moving away to his laptop.

::Look, my nomination for the most boring teacher of the year:: Huffer

::Oops, footnote at the bottom. Sorry, last year's win disqualifies you:: Ironhide

:: For your winner's statue that your ex wife took when she left and dumped you, please try e-bay.:: Hound

::They carry boredom statues?:: Wheeljack

::Nope. No personality either for sale on e-bay. Lots of knock off figures of us however.:: Ironhide grunted, his optics dimming as he rapidly searched the entire site.

::Are the replicas any good?:: Jazz

::For custom ones made without us being there, they are dead on accurate, if stiff. Come with a warning. No posing, playing or touching. As an adult collectible only:: Ironhide read an item description.

::That leaves you out. Any for armed mechs with the common sense of a youngling?:: Ratchet

::No. But yours should carry a warning about straining the optics. Ugly:: Ironhide

::I changed my paint job to simple colors. Green detailing on white. Not my fault if they get the colors wrong::Ratchet

::Not the colors, your faceplates. Got them perfectly:: Ironhide teased.

::I'll ugly your aft!:: Ratchet raised his arm, starting the transform to his surgical saw when a glare from Optimus stopped him.

"Yes, the curious one. What can I reassure you on now?" The human asked, pointing at Ratchet.

"Is the presentation going to resume shortly or should we come back?" Ratchet asked, keeping his vocal tone polite and professional even as he wanted to strangle his fellow mechs. Or remove a few external parts with a pry bar.

"Booting up now. And we will be good to go," he smiled as the screens went white before displaying fuzzy images. He could not hear their comm chatter, missing the groans from the Autobots. He continued talking, moving back and forth across the platform as he did so.

:: I will deal with you later Ironhide:: Ratchet glared at the weapons specialist.

:: At your age you will forget in a breem:: Ironhide pretended to sniff haughtily.

:: So speaks the voice of experience:: Ratchet

:: Enough you two before I make you both sit in the corner, nose plates to the wall:: Ultra Magnus threatened.

:: Last time I leave you as guardian in my stead at the Lennox farm. You were supposed to guard Sarah, not channel her:: Ironhide grumbled.

An hour later Ironhide considered the value of sitting in a corner, audios and optics off while he snuck in a quick recharge.

::How can a short-lived species be long winded?:: Huffer

::Longest vorn I have spent in awhile::Hot Rod sent, shifting his bent armored legs yet again one over the top of the other.

::It has been three hours human time!:: Kup protested.

::Feels like a vorn:: Hot Rod

"And here is where it goes fast. The install team does the conversion over the weekend and Monday morning bright and early, everything is good to go. Sit down at your desk and produce those reports," he said.

"The math is incorrect," Wheeljack noted, speaking aloud for the human's benefit. "The number of hours is seventy five for conversion and a weekend is forty eight hours for two days earth time."

"These figures have been seasonally adjusted. After Christmas, the system tends to bog down with overload form people activating new computers, cell phones and registering other new electronics. The best time for our design team to install while everyone else is off base on leave," he said.

:: Seasonally adjusted? More like completely made up numbers:: Wheeljack grumbled, switching back to internal comms. A scientist, he did not like adjusting facts, time or chemicals. Too often, the results were explosive, sometimes literally.

:: Seasonal. Dump the snow, dump the facts and dump the...:: Jazz

::Language!:: Prowl reminded.

An hour later, the man tapped the railing for their complete attention. "And that concludes our session. Now we will have a question and answer time then you are free to go." His follow up report listed no questions were asked, an indicator of his lecturing skill. However, he expressed amazement at the speed that the transformers moved out of the hangar. And sent a thank you for the mech thoughtful enough to keep asking questions and stay interested, attention Chief Medical Officer Ratchet.

**Story Arc **

**Time for a Change (Part 5)**

Optimus watched the evening sky with wide optics. The brilliant red and yellows of the setting sun's rays shimmering across the landscape. "Like the domes of Iacon before the war. How Elita and I use to roll towards the shuttle tower to watch the setting sun reflecting over those domes. Then stay and watch until the city sparkled with the life as the work of the day forgotten among the cool nights. A time to spend with family and friends.'

Serious concerns replaced his idle memory. 'Two days,' he processed, automatically checking the area for other signals friend or foe. 'And gradual improvement in their conditions. Sam is awake and stands vigil with Bumblebee. No sign of their attacker and I agree to meet a representative on the mainland. What was I processing?" The ancient mech tapped his side audio spinner, as though an answer might fall out and explain his conflicting emotions. The desire to stay with the wounded and the responsibility that drove him to work with humans for the betterment of the Autobots.

'Military scheduling did not allow him the extra time to reach the island base. Only humans would pass on command codes in person and not send an encrypted file.' A faint smile formed on his lip plates at the memory of the man's distress when the handcuffs attached to the briefcase fit around none of Optimus accessible parts. A distress that disappeared when the case disappeared into subspace, hidden and secure.

On the bluff, Optimus took one last look of the spectacular colors to lock into his memory core before he began shifting, the day's events stored away. Parts rotated, connecting to lock into place forming a blue and red-flamed Peterbilt truck. Engine roaring to life, the vivid truck rolled out, navigating the gravel road back to the main access.

::Arcee to Prime. Where are you sir?:: Arcee

::En route. Be there shortly:: Optimus sent his exact location to her.

::Watching the sunset from the bluff? My favorite spot too. Transfer point here is all quiet. Correction, no war activity but a lot of music and teenagers nearby. Using the long airstrip for speed runs:: Arcee

::You are not thinking of racing are you?:: Optimus

::Me? My second shell moved faster than these. And you could burn their best four wheels into the ground:: Arcee

Optimus laughed, his chassis bouncing as he imagined their expressions as his alt form accelerated faster than any earth engine. His mental tone remaining regal and serious as he answered her. ::No doubt. Fall back to the second staging area. I will relay the coordinates to Silverbolt. How are you on jump and catch drills?::

::Been awhile:: Arcee admitted then sent a strong pulse of combined excitement and expectation.

::Yes, we can do a launch and grab. However, if either of us miss, Ratchet will have our helms for targets. Once they pull us out of the ocean. The timing will have to be perfect for us to land in his cargo bay at that speed:: Optimus

::Same joor, different wrench hit from Ratchet:: Arcee joked back, closing the signal.

Fifteen minutes later Optimus slowed, detecting a Cybertronian signal ahead at the abandoned lighthouse. Crumbling, its top long gone, it stood a silent testament to days past when ships sailed by light and stars not radar and gps. Transforming up, he towered over its ruins, scanning around for the source of the signal. ::Arcee? Are you here already?:: Optimus

An astro second too late, defensive systems detecting the blast engaged protective protocols. Diving to the side in reaction, Optimus armor plating absorbed the metal spikes but not the charge they carried. Optics flickered, grey bars filling his vision as systems went into standby. Green and black armor blocked the fading sunlight before armored hands flipped him onto his back plates.

"Stubborn or powerful? Any other mech would be temporarily offline with that charge. I should leave you here for the humans the way you left me to rot," the mech glared, his red optics vivid against his square faceplates.

"I don't know you," Optimus admitted, struggling to move as error messages scrolled across his vision.

_DISABLED: MOVEMENT CABLES_

_DISABLED: SUP SPACE PULLERS_

_DISABLED: PRIMARY EMERGENCY PROTOCOLS_

_DISABLED: PRIMARY WEAPONS_

_DISABLED: WEAPONS CHARGES AND TARGETING_

_DISABLED: SECONDARY WEAPONS_

_DISABLED: COMMUNICATIONS_

_DISABLED: SECONDARY EMERGENCY PROTOCOLS_

_ONLINE: 50% PROCESSORS_

_ACTIVE: MATRIX_

_ACTIVE: MEMORY CORE_

_ESTIMATED TIME TO RESTORE: UNABLE TO CALCULATE. LOGIC TACTICAL SYSTEMS DOWN. _External movement overlaid error messages.

"Liar! You watched as your sentence, an existence locked in stasis was enforced! On your orders! " The mech raved, tapping Optimus blue helm with the end of his metal claw.

"You were an Autobot?"

"A soldier who fought well. Your limiting rules kept me from my glory! From the conquests that were rightfully mine," he hissed, his vocal breaking into static as emotion overwhelmed the circuitry. "I destroyed my enemies, leaving none standing." Spinning in place, the blast from his shoulder cannon exploded the center of the lighthouse ruins, scattering burning fragments. Red optics dimmed as memory cores accessed, reliving old files.

"The enemy retreating. My commanding officer blocking my way, demanding I stand down. Let the wounded go, he ordered. I blasted him and caught the fleeing Decepticons. Did I return to glory? No! You judged me, condemning me to nothing as an errant glitch. My punishment handed down for continuing the fight, betraying the escaping and murdering a superior officer. He was not superior but a weakling! I should have taken his place! Made a leader! My last memory packet was your blue optics watching as the coding took me offline, locking me into stasis until the end of the war. Only they found me. A search team."

Optimus struggled, fighting the codes racing in his systems. The matrix began humming, adding its power to his.

_ACTIVE: SYSTEM RESTORE_

_ATTACK CODING: CONFINED_

_TIME TO RESET: ONGOING_

Time Optimus needed to reset, time he did not have. 'I need to keep him talking,' he processed. "The Decepticons found you? Looking for energon stores?"

"Neutrals, looking for a place to hide. They welcomed me, trusting me after I told them a convincing story about needing repair and left behind until help could arrive. From them came my first trophies," he bragged, pulling battle-damaged parts out of subspace to display them.

"Murderer! Neutrals carry no weapons," the ancient Prime's optics blazed deep blue as power fueled his rage.

"Master is the word you are looking for," he snapped, waving a crushed wing tip in his hand.

Optimus felt movement return to his legs cables, the footpads flexing to command. Messages began updating across his vision.

_ACTIVE : MOVEMENT CABLES_

_ACTIVE : SUP SPACE PULLERS_

_ACTIVE: PRIMARY EMERGENCY PROTOCOLS_

_ONGOING REBOOT: PRIMARY WEAPONS_

_DISABLED: WEAPONS CHARGES AND TARGETING_

The green and black mech continued raving, never noticing the way the other mech's legs shifted together and to the side to lift him upright when needed.

"Master of my own fate. My weapons for hire to who I choose. I turn down weak chipped fools. Wanting a mech offlined to take his femme, disappear this or that superior officer to move up in rank hah! I refuse them no matter the credits offered. Power to inflict terror, the hunt as the target begins to fear, that is a challenge. And I have you to thank for it all. You are the reason I took my new name, Lockdown. A reminder of what you did to me!"

Optimus snarled, feeling his battle mask engage to hide the expression.

_ACTIVE: PRIMARY WEAPONS_

_ONGOING REBOOT: WEAPONS CHARGES AND TARGETING_

_ONGOING REBOOT: SECONDARY WEAPONS_

_ACTIVE: COMMUNICATIONS_

_ONGOING REBOOT: SECONDARY EMERGENCY PROTOCOLS_

_CYBERTRONIAN SIGNAL DETECTED: IDENTIFY ARCEE_

::I am under attack! Stealth approach and fire only with directed aim:: Optimus sent on an encoded Autobot command frequency, taking the chance Lockdown would not detect the signal.

::Armed and moving in. Why directed aim?:: Arcee's tone bordered on rage.

::Because it is the attacker we have been hunting. His face belongs to Ironhide. Shoot him if you have the shot but leave his faceplates intact:: Optimus ordered. The next minute blurring in his memory core as he surged to his feet pads, energon blades dropping out of both forearms. From the access road in, Arcee screaming as her transform completed, firing both blasters. Lockdown mistaking her as the threat as he turned firing.

"YYYAAAHHHH!"

"My trophy," Optimus said, his energon blade tip sizzling into the ground as gravity pulled it down. But not before its swing cut through the other's armor, slicing his claw arm off at the rotation joint.

"You will pay for that!" Screaming, Lockdown ran towards the crumbling lighthouse base and away from them. His zig zagging path preventing Optimus from following even as Arcee sighted for a single kill shot before he reached cover. Arms flailing, her shot going wild as a debris piece of rock jammed between Arcee's base wheel and side brace, pitching her forward. Chassis slamming down, her blaster bounced from her grip as he moved beyond range.

::Stay down. Silverbolt is coming and my firing weapons are loading now:: Optimus ordered, barely able to stand.

::I want his parts! He attacked my Bumblebee! And you and me!:: Arcee answered, rolling onto her side blasting the rock apart before half raising up to scan the area.

"I fight warriors not femmes! Stop before I add you to my list!" Lockdown yelled, glaring over the debris pile. The rapid fire shots made him duck and scuttle away.

"Femmes are warriors! And my name is Arcee with two e's! Spell it right!" her screaming voice followed him, the blaster shots chasing him as he moved. They watched as Lockdown dove straight off the cliff, green and black parts shifting in transform in the air as he fell. Compacting, his shape thickened in the middle as his ends lengthened into an elliptical shape.

"Is that?" Arcee swore, firing at the disappearing shape. The water splash had her stomping a footpad in anger as his shape disappeared beneath the waves. "Slagger is a sub! An ugly underwater sub! Bad enough they rule the air but move below the surface? Stinking con! How many trans scans you got glitch!"

Optimus vented, retracting his swords back into their forearm subspace housing. "Earth is mostly water and we discussed a water transform for a newly arrived mech. You did well," he said.

"Not enough. I intend to sink him, permanently," Arcee grumbled.

_To be continued..._


	30. Chapter 30 Not what it seems to Bee

Author's Notes: Thanks for picking "_favorite story_" and setting "_story alert_" to know when new chapters post. And this is the longest I have gone without an update, tied up with work and family. My goal is to return to _WEEKLY _posts. The next four chapters are already in progress, they need fine-tuning, harder to do without a Beta and missing friends. In addition, while Bumblebee and Arcee are friends in the ROTF universe they are not a designated couple in the movies. This is a gift chapter for Botosphere and other BeeCee fans.

Big shout out to fellow authors for allowing me to help with ideas and suggestions on their fics. Even I need to rest and read too. If you want to use an idea or expand on a piece here, please do! Thanks and much love to the creators of the original Transformers cartoon (and whoever own the legal rights to it now) that started it all. And to fan fiction for allowing us to post our efforts here. Onward to taking a single step forward and changing the future.

TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TRANSFORMERS

_273. Do not assume our advanced processing, highly developed sentience and survival skills ensure we do not make mistakes. Better to hesitate and be cautious than pit deep in trouble. _

_Addendum #1 – Prime is not the mech to anger with dumb aft behavior. *Ironhide_

_Addendum #2 – Prime and Ratchet are not the mechs to anger, with any type of behavior. *Ratchet_

_Addendum #3 – A slagged off femme's behavior is scarier than Prime, Ratchet and Ir__onhide together. _

Bumblebee hesitated as the first warning message appeared in the lower left of his vision. "Again? How could my waste tanks be full? I emptied them before spring break week started." The yellow armored scout hesitated, confirming the reading and venting lightly. The noise of the human soldiers on the Diego Garcia base faded into the background. "I skipped washing this morning because our racks were full. Ironhide's running every bot through the obstacle course leaves us all a mess. Take forever for my turn and the Aerialbots are scheduled next. High attitude fliers and the last bots I want to see under their armor when washing. But there is nowhere else on base I can go." His metal fingers tapped across the roof of the nearest tank, his frame sagging against its' side as scenarios ran through his processor. The fingers stopped moving as Bumblebee's optics brightened. "The femmes ran the course early, very early."

Ten minutes later Bumblebee leaned against the door to the femme wash racks, focusing on his sensor array.

_0% Cybertronian life signs detected_

_28% trace presence of recognizable femme energy signatures _

Delighted with his success, Bumblebee pushed past the door, a quick glance confirming the washroom empty and neatly stocked for the next use. "Whoa, femmes have the best stuff. Big fluffy cleaning rags, scented rinse gel and part clamps. Why do we never get this nice stuff? I swear we get the used shop rags, after the latest oil change. Optimus and Ironhide getting first pick of the larger towels. Lucky if I get a human sized rag and two drops of gel in the bucket in our area," he grumbled, moving to the farthest stall, closing the door as a lower panel opened, his armored hands reaching for the wall hose attachment. Intent on the flushing procedures for his waste tank, he never heard the outer door open again.

Arcee pushed past the hallway door, her newly repaired ankle gear barely restricting her movement. The normal pink and white armored femme splattered brown, the muck literally pushed into joints and places with mud and pieces of splintered wood. 'Slaggers. First Sideswipe crashes into me then Ironhide loads the target cannons with real ammo. What drill uses real weapons? Ratchet repairs me then assigns med bay cleaning duty after I get washed. Who did I tick off last vorn to deserve this?,' she pondered, subspacing out a rifle as mud encrusted as her armor.

The bent end rifle end stripped off and chucked into the trash before Arcee sat on the nearest bench, shoulder plates sagging. "One attachment left. If I lose this one, I am so offline with command. Not like I planned on ruining five of these fittings in one orn. Or that there are made from a rare metal." A jagged rock fragment in the rifle loader caught her instant attention, armored fingers attempting to pry it out. The small grey stone never moved, too small for her to force out without a tool. "Fine, I'll lay the attachment here. Be safe enough until I clean off and get the rifle back working," Arcee muttered, both hands gracefully wrapping a washrag around the part. Rising slowly to her feet pads, the femme entered the first stall, spinning the cleanser dial.

The door to the last stall opened, two wide blue optics confirming the worse. "Oh no! She should have been washed and gone!" Bumblebee processed frantically. Blue optics blinked off, his yellow armored hand automatically covering them. 'Don't look, it's not right. I cannot stare at Arcee, do not look,' he repeated even as thermal imagery gave him a very detailed scan of her. That too shut down, followed by the rest of his external sensors. Without a sound, he unhooked the drain attachment and swung his lower panel closed. Creeping out, his specially designed gears never creaked or hissed, the weight balanced perfectly on his feet pads. Wheeljack's designs, enhanced by Perceptor and proven in battle kept Bumblebee noiseless as his framed moved through the room, the route replaying from memory cores.

Arching under the spraying gel, Arcee's thin frame froze as her sensors registered a faint but detectable Cybertronian presence. Emotions flared across her processors as Bumblebee crept closer. Her feet pads shifting a little wider apart to brace as her hands dropped lower, her left hand nearly crushing the cleaning sponge. 'One touch or attempt to prank me and I will kick him through the wall and into the lagoon,' she processed without turning around.

The small yellow scout crept closer, his cooling systems straining to override lock down commands as his embarrassment increased. His lower panel swung open, the clasp still undone. 'Not now!' He nearly spark attacked right there, reaching out blindly to grab a towel off the bench. Holding it in front, he tip toed by and continued out the door. Reaching the outer hallway Bumblebee's optics onlined, the towel clenched in his hand as the other hand closed his panel with an audible click. "Made it safe."

Inside, the taller femme marveled at how noiselessly he moved when a look confirmed the wash racks empty, the outer door closing with a creak of its hinges. 'What? Bee did nothing! I am standing here half-washed and not even one attempt to scan me? What type of mech is he to not even look? I spent vorns designing this frame and armor shape,' she fumed, rinsing off the suds under the soft spray. Reaching out for a towel, her hand met empty air as the importance of _that_ missing towel registered.

Outside the building, Major Will Lennox escorted the liaison around another row of parked armored personnel carriers. The tropical sun beat down, the faintest sea breeze enough to tease without cooling. "Under the interplanetary treaty we provide space for the Transformers to have their own areas. Humans invited in by specific request only. Never enter anywhere marked with Cybertronian glyphs only."

The man glanced over his shoulder at the two femmes walking behind them before nervously tugging on his dark blue suit coat. "I assure you invasion of privacy is not my intent. I would like to see their rooms, even a bedroom. Empty of course!"

"Mech or femme quarters?" Chromia's voice surprised him.

"You have separate quarters? I thought you didn't have the same customs as humans? Both genders fight," the man blinked his hazel eyes behind his overly large glasses.

"I'll let them explain that one," Major Lennox answered first, glancing up at the medic Rone.

"On Paradron my quarters were with other femmes as we were all medical students. Rank and training determined room assignments. While femmes outnumber mechs there, gender did not determine anything but frame shapes," she stated.

"On Cybertron, we had separate quarters based on our family units or clan castes until the war. Now, I bunk with my mate or with my team in the field. Moreover, Decepticons offline regardless of gender. Any Cybertronian is their target, mech or femme. Why should we not all fight back against the same threat? They believe in strength and power, crushing any lesser bot, even sparklings and younglings," the blue armored femme asked.

"Then why not put all the women and kids in one place? Like a fortress or something. Protect them that way?" The liaison asked, blinking when both femmes huffed.

"For one attack to wipe us all out?" Chromia asked, leaning down over the man, considering her next action. Pinning the man to the pavement or grabbing him closer to her optics would not be the most diplomatic response to his stupidity but satisfying. Vorns of self-control kept her answer without profanity or her deep anger. "Do the work for them? Locks keep them out and you trapped when attacked. Pearl Harbor demonstrates a surprise attacks effectiveness out of your own history. Even the human phrase, 'do not put all your eggs in one basket' demonstrates the stupidity of such a gathering," she reminded.

"Bad mistake then?" He guessed, glancing over at Will.

"Disaster. Our race employs logic, tactical processing and experience in our actions," Rone reminded, crossing her folded arms to mirror Chromia's defiant stance.

"In other words," Major Lennox translated. "The first attack taught them and their war has lasted for thousands of years. Each side matching the other and learning to survive. Anything you can think of battle wise they know including disbursement of potential targets and available assets. Especially family members."

"Wouldn't it be easier to ask for terms of peace from the Decepticons?"

Will held his breath as both femmes stopped all movement and glared at the man before taking two steps back. His trained mind automatically looking for the nearest cover while wondering how to explain the man's disappearance to his bosses. 'Better than returning a Ziploc full of flattened bio. Less paperwork that way,' Will reasoned.

The femmes exchanged a look before transforming down into their alt modes. The official's eyes widened as Rone's alt mode rose to hover in the air before floating away alongside Chromia's rolling form.

"They have asked for peace. Megatron wants them all offlined or slaves. Did you read the background report before arriving?" Will asked, wiping at his sweaty brow.

"Must have missed that part," the man admitted.

"Did you also miss the part about them carrying large guns?" Will teased, pushing open the human size door into the Autobot quarters. Both men froze as Bumblebee raced from left to right down the hallway, optics wide and feet pads flying.

"Get back here! You have what I need!" Arcee screamed, following right behind. Both men blinked as they ran out the far door, the sounds of their running fading.

"Was the first one a mech?"

Yes," Will answered, rubbing at the beginning of a headache.

"And the second a female or femme?"

"Yes."

"Okay then. Shall we continue the tour and give them some personal time?" He asked, wondering how to phrase that in his official report.

In the Autobot quarters next hanger over, Optimus began to open his lip plates to give a reprimand about running when the main door swung open, rocking on its hinges with force. The words never came as Bumblebee's yellow armored form ran by, a dripping wet Arcee following closely.

"You will give me what I want or else!" She screamed, sliding to a halt as Bumblebee's room door shut barely a cable's width in front of her. Her fist pounded the entry key pad, crushing it flat. Ironhide's warning about monitor duty, training with the twins and floor cleaning rang in her audios if anything happened to that last part carefully concealed in the towel now beyond her reach.

::Magnus, has Arcee mentioned her choice of mech?::Optimus sent, peering around the corner to watch and stay clear.

::Why? Am I the lucky one?:: Magnus sent back, his mental tone light.

::I'm serious brother:: Optimus

::Arcee has chosen none of the available mechs that I know of. She favored both Springer and Hot Rod on Cybertron but nothing serious. She keeps to her own berth and her sharpshooter skills enforce that choice. Has that changed?:: Magnus answered, his mental tone curious.

::Not sure:: Optimus admitted, forwarding a repair order to the job log for the dents Arcee began to leave in the door.

"You can't leave me like this! I trusted you in the femme wash racks now open that door! Give it to me! Or I'll take it from you!" Arcee threatened, unable to blast it with her rifle still jammed, the fastest solution. Her other weapons would have left too big a hole and potentially damage him or her with the concussion blast.

:: I need to know to prevent a potential problem as her commanding officer. Ratchet tried pairing me up with her and every other available femme. You are not meddling in personal lives too?:: Magnus

::A Prime does not meddle. We constructively enhance possibilities. And I would rather prevent a problem than deal with its aftermath. Arcee seems determined to reach Bumblebee, through the door, the wall or ceiling if necessary:: Optimus

::Hmm, determined as a fellow warrior needing help or determined as in needing a parts bucket after a prank gone wrong?:: Magnus

::Determined as in creating a betting pool for a sparkling::Optimus shook his helm, backing out the main door, closing it softly.

::Bumblebee and Arcee? That should be an interesting combo. Poor sparkling would look like a popsicle with layered colors of yellow, pink and white:: Magnus sent.

Three hours later, a sheepish Bumblebee joined the other mechs in the recreation room, fresh dents in his armor. Arcee wheeled in after that, her rifle hid in subspace and ready for battle. Neither mentioned the incident though the sideways optical glances and vague comments made them wonder what they had missed.

_274. Do not assume rules are inflexible. They can be added to, removed, or altered as needed by command staff. File an appropriate request with your designated superior officer. All requests using 'not fair, because I want it to, that's a stupid rule, but it would keep me out of trouble, it takes all the fun out, and you're picking on me' are not valid reasons for altering or removing a rule."_

Prowl's white armored fingers precisely typed out the report, the quiet of his office broken by the sounds of his venting. His black and white wing doors angled outward, their brief movements up or down reflecting the seriousness of his report. "Another Decepticon attack, more viscous than the last and no one offlined. Extensive damage to the surrounding area but unpopulated by any humans. What could they have wanted under the ice?" His blue optics focused on the distant wall, as though searching for the answer.

::CMO to Prowl. Ironhide done there yet?:: Ratchet

::He left my office two breems ago:: Prowl

:;!$*&*! When will you lug heads learn battle injuries are for me to determine repairs? Internal systems functioning be slagged! He can't keep taking hits and expect to roll back. Bad enough Prime and him but what type of example does that set for the others?: : Ratchet raved as Prowl continued his report, listening and murmuring reassurances as necessary.

In the Autobot private quarters, the mech in question parked next to the recharge berth in his alt mode.

"_If__ you can read this you are slagged_," Chromia read aloud before rising back up straight. The blue colored femme smirked at her sparkmate's alt mode. "That is what is printed on the bumper sticker. Must have placed it while you were recharging on the flight back." Stepping to the side, she watched him transform upward into his bi pedal mode, the sign disappearing underneath his armor as the bumper parts shifted. The confines of their private quarters echoed the transformation sounds from all directions.

Ironhide formed a grin on his black lip plates, "Twins meant it as a joke but I am keeping it. Ohh," he groaned, more falling on the berth than laying on it. Silver lines traced a pattern over his black armor.

"I thought Prowl had a rule about no bumper stickers," Chromia winced, imaging the damage to the Decepticon stupid enough to fire shrapnel shells on her mech.

"Prowl can bring it up with me to my faceplates, rules or not," Ironhide grumbled, his voice muffled against the covers.

"Do not mention his rules again or I'll use these armor shears to remove more than shrapnel," she growled, pulling on the first embedded piece.

"On me or on him?" he teased, helping her to begin his repairs.

"Him! These latest rules!" She pulled hard, ripping the debris piece out to fling it across the room.

"Easy 'Mia. Tell me what happened."

"The newest rule. Femmes should pick appropriate battlefield colors! Who the pit does he think he is? Primus replacement? Arcee is pink, I am blue and Elita is rose instead of her old pink and white. Does he say anything to Skids or Mudflap? Or Ratchet? His old armor coloring hurt every bot's optics for how long!" Chromia ranted, removed shrapnel flinging around the room to match her emotional swirl.

"That isn't his doing," Ironhide said.

"Whose is it? Prime? Every bot knows he makes the rules. "

"That is not a rule, but a prank. What is his main function?"

"Tactician and strategist, second in command under Prime," she replied instantly.

"And making rules for paint jobs helps how?"

"It doesn't!" she said then paused. "Oh, hmm. He would know better than to slag us over wouldn't he?"

"He focuses on main problems, situations and keeping the peaceful relations between Transformers and humans. Colors for femmes are not within those priorities. Though you could use a paint adjustment," Ironhide noted, his optics narrowing. He turned onto his side plates, hands reaching to either side of her.

"What?"

"Black streaks on blue," he smiled, reaching up and grabbing her down.

"Ohh, that type of paint," she giggled, as his lip plates began moving down her armor.

_418. Do not have following displayed on your alt mode as a bumper sticker or a t-shirt phrase on your holographic driver:_

a._ I fought at Egypt and all I got was these armor welds._

b._ Because I am the Prime, that's why._

c._Autobots __cool, Decepticons steal fuel._

d._ Never ask my roommate for help. *Sam_

e._Vote Prime / Lennox 2012_

f._ I am faster than you can imagine and in front of you! *Sideswipe_

g._I brake for no bot. *Chromia_

h._Femmes, the upgrade to the first mechs._

i._ I shoot __stupid (_with an arrow pointing up at a seeker shape)_*Ironhide_

j._Got energon?_

_k.__ Driver only carries 20 subspace pockets of ammo._

_l.__Try and catch me *Blurr_

_m. Before joining NEST consult a medic. Before reenlisting, consult a psychiatrist._

_n.__Sharpshoo__ters do it with precision *Moonracer_

_o.__ Emergency vehicle – stay back wrench throwing range *Ratchet_

_p.__ Don't make me transform_

_q.__Gun control is a cannon on both arms *Ironhide_

_r.__ Save the earth, I like my alt mode. _

_s. Cybertron or bust_

_t. I survived Unicron's wild ride_

_u. My sparkling outdoes your college honor student_

_v. Discover wildlife, raise twins_

_w. It is liaison season, why can't I shoot just one?_

_x. Don't worry, I welded it._

_y. How is my driving? Call 1-800-cannons_

_z. You go fast, I go interplanetary_

_aa. Mean robots suck_

_ab. It's not a scratch, it's a scar_

_ac. Jeeps do it in the mud *Hound_

_ad. Keep honking, my targeting systems use sound too_

_ae. My other ride is a top kick *Chromia_

_af. Been there, pranked that *Twins_

_ag. The more humans I meet, the more I like my roborat_

_ah. CSI – Can't stand idiots *Prowl_

_ai. Twin and weapon missing. Reward for weapon._

**STORY ARC**

**Time for a Change (Part 6)**

"When I installed five repair berths I never processed I would need them all at the same time," Ratchet grumbled, regarding his patients.

"I can go," Windy said, sitting halfway up. The small femme pulled on the energon drip line in her arm, making it wiggle without removing it.

"No," Ratchet smiled warmly at Windy. "You are still recovering and have two more major part replacements. Go into recharge knowing you are safe and Medic Rone will be here shortly." His white and green striped armored hand rested on Windy's hand, monitoring as she slipped into deep recharge. A small injection of coding into her main line ensured she would recharge for hours, no matter what happened around her.

A powerfully deep engine revved as its owner sat upright, swinging his feet over the medical berth edge. Without turning, or feeling the powerful energy aura increasing, the medic knew who it was. "Hold it right there Prime!"

"Now Ratchet," he began.

"Now Prime, get your aft back on that berth! You barely rolled into here and you are not leaving here until I say so or I will weld you to the ceiling and work on you while balancing on a step ladder!" he raved.

"Nicer personality switch there Dr. Hyde," Arcee quipped before glaring at the silver wrench waving in front of her optics.

"Windy is terrified of medical repairs, not me. You are another matter, bad aim included," Ratchet gestured towards the char mark on her main axle.

"I will slag that 'Con!" she promised.

"I meant shooting your own wheel axle to displace a rock. What? You couldn't pull it out? I have better repairs to make than ones self-inflicted. The twins I expect, or even Ironhide blowing a cannon shock absorber from overuse but you?"

"I was in a hurry," she said.

"You're not now. You can wait for First Aid to replace the center bar then you are free to go. Not one astro second before," he ordered.

"My self-repair," Optimus began.

"Is insufficient for this." Ratchet vented deeply, sagging a little. "The charge used is a medic's EMP. It's interferring with your systems. That monster stole it off a highly trained medic I have no doubt. After he was offlined."

"I'm sorry," Optimus rumbled, reaching out a hand to rest on the other's armor.

"I'm mad that Lockdown condemned others to suffer by removing their one source of help. I fight to prevent damage, other medics never even carry a weapon. Megatron knows this. He forbid the targeting of medics and Allspark sensitives early in the war," Ratchet murmured, shying away from how many former students on his medical staff remained only in his memory cores.

"What changed?" Arcee asked, too young to have been online then.

"War. The longer it goes, the more victims it takes. Arcee, hand me the proto wrench please. Optimus' armor is thick as his chips," Ratchet ordered then blinked as the femme ignored him, her face turned to the side. "Staring will not help Bumblebee recover faster. Time is what he needs."

"Do we know when?" Optimus regal baritone held none of his deep-seated fear for the young scout. Their optics focused on the last medical berth and the yellow armored mini bot lying up on it.

"Not exactly. He is stable but not online yet and will awaken on his own. Sam is with the Lennox's in the human base quarters, Sarah ensuring he eats and rests. Then he can return to stand vigil," Ratchet said, transforming his fingers to tools.

Two hours later Arcee remained in med bay, First Aid called to attend to a rescue mission while Ratchet dealt with Ironhide in his quarters. Only Windy and Bumblebee remained, both unmoving on their medical berths. While Arcee could leave, she wanted to wait with a friend more than fearing the medic's wrath if she snuck out. Her transformed feet balanced on the smooth floor, the bent plating charred as she moved closer.

"I know what it's like. To be injured and despairing if you will remain online," the femme murmured, touching her lip plates to Bumblebee's forehead. Her memory cores activated, replaying the scene from Egypt and the fight for the sun reaper. The desert's brilliant light triggered another set of optic filters, increasing her reliance on detection systems rather than optics. The stone pillar in front of her exploded, sending jagged fragments flying as it collapsed into the sand.

"Slag! This is bad!" Arcee yelped, hearing and feeling the echo from the other fighters as the Decepticon fire continued. Humans were falling around her, their cries lost beneath weapons fire. Sand exploded upward, forcing optics to shutter.

"Jammers are rendering me blind," she swore, literally spinning in place when a flash of red fire erased the world. Pain. Blinding, sensor crashing pain exploded through her, wiping out her connections. Screaming, Arcee tried reaching for any Cybertronian presence, even a Deception. Nothing flowed back. It was as if she was alone in a swirling world of pain and night.

"No! I...cannot be...left..." Struggling, fighting the darkness blocking her vision, she raised her helm. Grey bars brightened to reveal her face down on the sand, the smoking remains of her blue form on the edge of her vision. A shadow blocked the sun before a mass fell onto her. Venting hard, Arcee felt the weight crushing her into the sand, the grains moving away as others flowed readily into her open wounds, shorting and clogging systems. A vague memory floated across her processor, a way to keep her spark intact when all else failed. Her remaining power focused on a single core pack, activating the medical force field around her spark spires. The fluttering touch of Bumblebee's helm vents beneath her fingers returned her to the present and med bay.

"I never knew that type fear," Arcee murmured, her optics slowly returning to their full blue glow. Her hand caressed down Bumblebee's chest plates, tracing the weld repair seams too faint to discern with normal vision. Her hand hovering over Bumblebee's lower spark catch before releasing it. "The Deception that fell on me actually saved me. His chassis absorbing the blast wave and shrapnel. Humans found me. My spark strength enough to show as a thermal ripple. My next memory is waking in the ship's hold, Ratchet and Ironhide there." Her hand moved, releasing the next spark catches. The faintest glimmer of his spark easing through the plating gap.

"Poor Ironhide. The look on his faceplate almost melted my processor. He felt ashamed," Arcee explained, more to herself. Her hand found the fourth and last spark catch. The faintest hum of Bumblebee's systems reassuring as the silver blue light expanded. "Ironhide processed I was offline when my signal disappeared. Only my two rolling forms were visible, both destroyed with mine hidden under the Con's bulk. Ironhide ran, leaving me behind." Her hands rested over his chest plate gap, feeling the warmth and pulsing of the life below.

::He jettisoned his cannons:: texted across her vision, reminding her.

"Chromia told me later. That is how desperate the battle became. When have you ever known Ironhide to throw away a weapon?" Arcee smiled, glancing up into the faint blue optics. "ARRRRGGGHHHH!" The femme went over backwards, metal ringing as she landed on her aft in shock. Hands scrabbling at the berth sides, the pink armored femme pulled herself up to drape across him. "BEE!"

::Maybe I should go out more often:: Bumblebee joked weakly, his text fading from her vision.

"Don't you dare," she whispered. Then a line of code crossed her processor. "Wait! How much did you hear?" Turning her helm bright blue optics met faint blue.

::Not much. Egypt, being scared and darkness. I am glad you are here:: he raised one hand, or tried. Damaged, it flopped weakly against her center chest plating as the med bay doors opened.

"Ahem!" Ratchet's vocal snapped their optics to him as his green and white armored form marched into their field of vision. His optics roved over them, noting Arcee draped across Bumblebee's form, the unsnapped spark catches and his hand dead center of her plating before Ratchet's optics focused on the life monitors attached to the medical berth side.

"We were talking. I needed to know he was okay," she stammered, hands hastily locking Bumblebee's catches.

"He will be. First Aid is delayed and your repairs can wait. I need to monitor Bumblebee," Ratchet said, his attention on the increasing energy readings. Satisfied, he patted the mech's helm vents before leaning closer to Arcee and whispering, "The next time you want to play sleeping Beauty, ask first."

"Oh!" Arcee gasped, cooling fans kicking to their highest notch as she switched to internal comms. ::I was not doing that!::

::Why not? He could use the attention and not every merge makes sparklings or spark mates. Some are strictly for pleasure:: Ratchet teased back, moving the rolling tool cart closer.

::I cannot believe you said that! Where are your morals?:: Arcee neared the double doors, intent on escaping.

::With the Allspark, dormant until needed. Seriously, if you were on Cybertron you would have had several partners by now in your long life:: Ratchet sent.

::Not even! I'm waiting for the right spark, not the closest mech. Femmes are not breeding machines or a stress relief. I'm a Cybertronian too! I have rights:: Arcee closed the line with a burst of static, her way of slamming the line closed even as she left med bay.

::What did you say?:: Bumblebee

Ratchet grinned, smiling down at him. "Fastest way to rile Arcee is to tease her on personal matters. Her choice to mate or not is entirely her own and I approve her decision to not hop berths. That is what I teased her about."

::Then why?:: Bumblebee asked.

"I kept her focused on that and not the recurring medical appointments I just scheduled. Time to upgrade her alt mode and no more protests on when."

::You are sneaky:: Bumblebee sent, waggling a finger at him accusingly.

"Never said I wasn't. And you have visitors," he gestured as the double doors opened, Optimus holding Sam on his hand, Ironhide standing behind them both.

_To be continued..._


	31. Chapter 31 The White House request

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. They help me to know what people like and want to see more of. The story arc will be returning to Lockdown, the Decepticons and more next chapters with surprises and plot twists. 2 points and a virtual twin protection immunity pass (one week only) to the reviewer who can name both of Annabelle's figures. Onward to what is coming, you think.

TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TRANSFORMERS

_288. Do not discount myths and stories. If they are important enough to tell the next generation, they are important enough to be remembered when we are full frame. DISCLAIMER: Human cartoons and movies do not count. _

"How do they expect me to solve the problems of the galaxy when I can't even solve the problem of copious piles of human paperwork," Optimus grumbled. The regally tall blue and red armored mech stepped sideways through his office doorway, careful not to jar the pile of human notebooks resting on his armored palm. Sticky notes and loose pages threatened to slide out of the pile, adding to the organizational nightmare awaiting him.

"We could share the technology to enable comm links, data transfers and processor upgrades," a male vocal sounded from the chair in front of Prime's desk, the mech sitting turning to look over his black and white door wing.

"Where is Prowl and what have you done with him?" Optimus asked, widening his optics. Chuckling, the Prime dumped the notebooks onto the desk before settling into his chair with a creaking of metal and hydraulic gears.

"About time the squeaky wheel got replaced," Ironhide commented, his massive black armored frame filing the office doorway. Sitting on his upturned hand, Annabelle waved at them. The young human Prime wore her favorite dark blue jumpsuit, the Autobot patch sewn prominently on her right shoulder, the American flag on her left.

"We repair all our equipment in a timely manner," Prowl reminded, pointing down at his chair with fresh repair welds.

"I meant changing out the cold emotionless second in command with a mech capable of humor," Ironhide said as he settled into the other chair, holding his hand out over the desk for Annabelle to transfer to its surface.

"He's not cold," Annabelle corrected, hopping down. "Flareup says he's hot with those flexible wing doors."

Prowl's entire frame twitched as the other mechs chuckled. "I...she...said?" He sputtered.

"Well, she did," the little girl shrugged, sitting down on the padded chair made especially for her small size. No bot there thought it odd for a child size chair and desk to be sitting on top of Optimus' massive metal desktop. They accommodated to their variety of frame sizes, why not for humans too?

:: Jazz to Prime, we got a problem. The type we need Ironhide to solve:: Jazz interrupted, tightly encrypted across the command frequency.

Optimus switched it to an open channel, allowing the others to hear. :: Go ahead Jazz, he's here in my office now::

:: Twins changed out the roving target drones again. Instead of Decepticon cassettes, we got puppy dog shaped drones wheeling around:: Jazz

"How is that a problem? Puppies are cute," Annabelle asked, unable to see the image transmitted through their internal frequencies.

::They're uh...being bad. Chewing stuff. Like my leg plating:: Jazz temporized, not wanting her to see him sitting in the upper hangar rafters, the robotic pack snarling with red optics up at Jazz and the four NEST soldiers clinging to his armor. The humans kept Jazz's claws full, unable to subspace his Cybertronic blast shield or back up ion blaster. ::These are the combat drones. Fast and heavily armored::

"Hardly worth targeting," Ironhide grumped then took a good optic full of the waiting reports. "But ah can help since you asked."

::Ironhide and Prowl will disable the drones then brig the twins. I will deal with them later. Prime out:: Optimus sent. Chairs creaked, gears moving as Ironhide and Prowl left, their weapons called out of subspace into their waiting hands the second they cleared the office door.

"They expect you to fix everything," Annabelle noted as the office door slid shut.

"As they will of you and Sam as human Primes. A leadership position carries its own risks and rewards based on the decisions you make," Optimus began sorting the notebooks.

"Bad dogs get whopped with a paper, that's easy. Daddy says ordering others to do things is harder because they rely on you to tell them what to do even when you can do them but you can't because they need you to tell them to do it," the young girl explained, beginning to pull out supplies from her backpack. Blank paper and pink pens with white fluffy feather ends joined an array of colored markers on her desk.

"Partially. I lead by example as well, and rely on my officers. Prowl makes the tactical decisions I cannot, sending my closest friends to possible offlining based on their abilities, not our friendships. And you are right, there are times they do rely on me to tell them what they already know," Optimus admitted.

"Hide says you're a good fighter. Not the smartest or fastest but good at getting shot at. That allows him to hit more of the Decepticons with his cannons when they are busy chasing you," Annabelle stated. Digging for her last marker at the bottom of the backpack, she missed the expression on his faceplates.

"I use my skills and strength where needed, asking no more of troops than I am willing to give," the ancient mech countered, making a processor note to practice combat skills with Ironhide. Preferably with the other mech running ahead of Optimus on the obstacle course, his ion rifle blasts encouraging Ironhide's speed.

"But you don't like fighting," she said.

"No, I like to build. Until the war is finished, I cannot devote my efforts to anything else. This is not our home and we must accommodate our allies as well as protect them," his massive square end fingers tapped the papers for emphasis.

"I don't have fighters yet, only my dolls and Ironhide. And we play nice. War won't last forever. I need to know more than telling others what to do. Can I build stuff?" Annabelle asked.

"Yes," his blue optics regarded her kindly, pleased she was learning the attributes of a Prime quickly. 'Sam,' he processed. 'Has a gentle nature and never held a weapon before ramming the Allspark into Megatron's chest. Annabelle was sparked into an existence where fighting and our war is all she has known. I am glad she thinks of things other than fighting.'

Nine days later Optimus split his attention between the human officers in the main hangar and watching Wheeljack and Prowl reviewing safeties to prevent tampering with the target drones. This time miniature drone elephants had attacked, mistaking a supply truck for an Autobot. The results predictable, though burnt rolls of toilet tissue were still appearing in odd places like roofs, vent covers and even the occasional palm tree.

"We need the components to accept programming variations," Wheeljack reasoned, pointing out the already present number of security codes interfering with the updates. The holographic model wavered as another mini system error appeared.

"Every security measure we design the twins find a way to circumvent," Prowl mused.

"We could program the drones to attack the twins anytime the twins appear," the civilian inventor offered. He waited and waited as the security officer considered the idea. "You do know I was kidding?"

"Actually, the idea has merit," Prowl murmured thoughtfully. Optimus suddenly became busy in his datapad, not about to comment or add to the discussion unless directly asked. Even his famous patience began thinning with the twin's latest pranks. Nearby, the human officers dealt with their own problems.

"What do you mean all the spoons from the spare kitchen are missing? I escort Agent Dave around for two hours and things get misplaced?" Major Lennox grumbled, smiling briefly at his daughter as she sat on the metal steps with backpack in hand.

"Missing as in not there," Master Sergeant Epps corrected. "Gone and vanished without a trace. And there are no cameras in those areas and no witnesses. First shift they were there, second shift they're not."

"Did you check the other drawers?" He ran a hand through his hair, trying to ignore the growing amount of silver strands.

"Yes. Checked all the way down to the staff assigned to clean and restock, including their personal lockers. But who would want that many spoons is beyond me. And that is not all. Four brass door knobs, two floor vent covers, and a set of blades off a cooling fan are missing."

"The what!" Will's shocked tone had Optimus and the other Transformers listening fully.

"The blades inside a fan. You know, the type you set on your desk when it is hot. Someone pried open the plastic outer cages, taking the metal blades but left the wiring," Epps motioned the actions with his hands then held them out at chest height, palms out to forestall the next question. "We double then triple checked the armory and the explosives shed. All items logged and accounted for down to the last blasting cap."

"So no spinning bombs, that's good. Anything else?" Will sipped at his coffee, frowning at its odd taste before sitting the cup down.

"One silver hubcap from a golf cart, a typewriter wheel, three staplers, a socket wrench, alligator clips. .." Epps continued reading down the list.

"And a partridge in a pear tree," Will quipped before growing serious. "Theft is a disciplinary issue but those are hardly high level items. Do we have any leads?"

"I didn't need all the spoons. I can give those back. And you forgot part of a coffee maker over there," Annabelle admitted quietly. She stood there, hands clasped around her backpack. Both men looked down at her, surprised at having never heard the young girl approach.

"You took the items youngling?" Optimus voiced the question in the silence.

"I needed the metal as a Prime," she admitted quietly.

"For? And being Prime does not excuse not asking first," Will stated.

"Does for Optimus," Ratchet commented then ducked as a massive armored arm swung where his helm had just been.

"You're not helping," Optimus grumbled, stepping back away.

"I needed metal for my figures. I had to make them!" Annabelle's voice rose as her life signs increased. "They fight but never win. The good guy is nice and I made him first. The bag guy I keep seeing in my dreams too and I had to make him real so the good mech could stomp him flat! I'm tired of dreaming them!" Annabelle's lip quivered as her life signs fluctuated, her eyes filing with tears.

"Easy youngling," Kneeling, both Optimus and Ratchet reached for her. Ironhide comforted from the other side as both men froze, surrounded by concerned Transformers.

"No one is upset, we just need an explanation," Will reassured his daughter.

"Now he says that. Could have saved me compiling the list," Epps muttered under his breath.

"I can show you! Watch," she waved her hand over the backpack, the metal zipper undoing as two round objects floated out. The first yellow and gold orb with a metal outer ring like Saturn and a smooth metal plated surface appeared. As it rolled in the air, the center orange inner disk blazed, the left and right edge rotating out as though orange pinchers to grab or rend. The second shape to float out, another golden orb with yellow and blue points and a multitude of lines as though buildings and roads across its surface.

"That looks like Cybertron, from space before the war," Ironhide noted.

"And that one?" Optimus watched as the spiked orb spun in the air before it too landed on the floor.

"No slagging clue."

"Watch," Annabelle began pulling and moving the Cybertron looking orb, splitting it into two halves yet still joined at the center. Piece by piece, the round shape folded and swiveled to the largest transformer model they had ever seen. "This is the good guy."

Reaching down, she began transforming the orange and yellow round shape, arms and fists folding out first. The outer ring separated into skeletal wing struts down the figure's back.

"Looks sinister somehow," Epps said.

"He's mean in my dreams," she frowned, setting him down by the other figure.

"I don't recognize them, do you?" Ratchet puzzled, comparing the design with all known Transformer modes.

"No but you could be standing on them and not know. Their design is world size if this model is accurate," Wheeljack noted.

"You still could have asked sweetie," Will hugged his daughter, reassured the metal went to a use, however odd, and not a sudden inclination to steal.

"I did. Optimus said it was okay," she turned to face him.

"When?" Optimus searched his memory cores, trying to isolate that conversation. The figures appeared familiar but he could not place them. His vast store of memory cores continued running, trying to find a suitable match.

"When you said it was okay to build. What else would I have made?" Annabelle said.

"A dollhouse?" Epps suggested.

"I have my sand castle."

"A scooter?"

"Ironhide rolls better than any scooter!" She laughed, reaching out and hugging the black metal plating of his arm.

"Is there anything you would like?" Wheeljack bent down, barely fitting between Optimus and Ratchet, his systems ready in design and planning mode. He wanted to examine those figures in detail, amazed at the complexity of their transform and would trade whatever she wanted for them.

"How about a subspace pocket inside mom's suitcase? Every time she visits daddy she never has any nightgowns. She sleeps naked," the little girl whispered.

Wheeljack's sidebars flashed bright red as the others laughed. Almost as red as Will Lennox's face.

**STORY ARC**

**Time for a Change (Part 7)**

"It starts with a simple question," Optimus mused. His tall blue and red armored form strode through the hallway, his optics intent on the med bay double doors. They slid noiselessly open, the room's occupants reacting to his heavier tread. Prowl nodded a greeting as Ironhide continued glaring at Ratchet, or rather the wrench clenched in Ratchet's hand as they stood arguing by the far wall. Sam smiled at Optimus as Bumblebee texted a greeting from his medical berth.

::Can I sneak out with you? My repairs are minor except for external fittings and armor paint:: Bumblebee

::Only if you want red and blue coloring:: Optimus answered, waving at his own flame design. He stopped, a single ping over the comm system getting their undivided attention. He addressed all of them.

"I received a call from the President this morning, requesting our presence in Washington, DC. He wishes to announce our presence to the world and asked if we would attend for the press briefing," Optimus said. The silence that followed worried him for a second before the gasps, vents and rapid talking began. Ratchet alone remained silent, having been the second Autobot briefed following the morning's Presidential communiqué. Elita being the first, as Femme Commander and sparkmate. Long ago Optimus learned the wisdom of keeping her informed of his travel plans and major decisions.

"For what purpose? Communications satellites relay from here," Prowl asked, mildly upset the request had not come though proper channels into his office. His tactician cores nearly frizzing calculating dangers of the team among so many high-ranking humans, the general reaction to alien transformers from earth's inhabitants, and the disruption of his staffing schedules.

"Who will attend?" Ratchet asked the same time as Ironhide.

"I will select a team," the ancient Prime said.

"Cool, DC. Never been there," Sam tapped his knuckles lightly against Bumblebee's. The yellow scout warbled, playing a song clip.

_Yours is the aim to make this grand country grander,_

_This you will do, that's our strong, firm belief._

_Hail to the one we selected as commander,_

_Hail to the President! Hail to the Chief! *1_

:: No staying in the garage this time:: Bumblebee's text message spelled out across the medical berth's sidebar.

"Why now?" Prowl puzzled, systems running tactical scenarios.

"Need the ratings. Domestic policy is in the waste can, two wars in other countries, midterm elections wiped out my side, some of them want me gone, and I need remembering for something. Why not the discovery of an alien race? You guys are pretty cool, guns and all," Sam spoke up.

"We will show them we are here to protect. To defend them for the Decepticons who come to destroy. Sam will remind them of the trust we share," Optimus regal baritone deeper than normal as he spoke.

"Annabelle?" Ironhide asked.

"She will remain here with the others. A benefit of being a Prime is my word is law if I have to enforce it. She is too young to understand her actions fully," he rubbed his left antenna, the metal audio disk spinning.

::Meaning a moment of panic and the Presidential limousine is crushed into a tin can by her Prime gift:: Bumblebee texted.

"I will take Wheeljack, Ratchet, Arcee, Silverbolt, Bumblebee and Sam."

"What about me? I am your bodyguard and a command officer. The Decepticon assassin is still around. Need me for backup," Ironhide reminded, moving to stand in front of him.

"More you're going to blow Lockdown's back plates off when he crawls out of his hiding hole," Ratchet corrected.

"I ain't waiting for him to crawl out," the weapons specialist snarled.

Optimus chuckled deliberately keeping his vocal tone light as he rested an armored hand on Ironhide's black armor plating. "That is why I leave you here. To guard the sparklings in case of an attack. Megatron would not be so bold as to attack the White House with us there while announcing our existence to the world."

"But he would attack here on base and if he finds out about the sparklings or Annabelle's ability," Prowl added.

"There is no limit to the damage he could do," Ratchet added, having discussed the situation earlier with Prime.

"I'm getting left?" He sagged on his frame, caught between duty to his oldest friends and the tiniest of their race.

"No, we are leaving our best where he's needed," Optimus encouraged.

"The best huh? Remind me his next repair visit," Ratchet repeated.

"Best at saving your aft medic," Ironhide stated, standing feet pads apart, leg cables taunt beneath his heavy black plated armor as his upper body braced, arms out with both cannons rolling.

"Then it is decided. Ironhide will protect our most valuable until we return," Optimus declared. "I need to speak with Sam privately. The President wishes to present the Congressional Gold Medal and the Presidential Medal of Freedom for both Mission City and Egypt." *2

Optimus armored hand swiveled out, allowing the young man to hop from Bumblebee's medical berth. Sam sat down carefully, avoiding jarring or hitting healing injuries. Neither spoke until they were outside the building, both watching the setting sun.

"I noticed how you chose our group," Sam started.

"What do you mean boy?"

"You're a Prime and leader with Ratchet an ex politician and medic. Both of you can hold you own against anything in Congress or at the White house. Arcee and Bumblebee are smaller bots and more familiar with humans. Wheeljack is a civilian scientist and I am an interplanetary ambassador already. The award ceremony is a way to show humans are involved since the beginning. Silverbolt is our ride and backup if it hits the fan. Very few of the NEST soldiers even know he carries a gun, let alone the size of it."

"And?" Optimus asked, his tone encouraging.

"No designated spies like Jazz, or weapons specialists like Ironhide or the other Aerialbots which could be seen as a threat to the human race. No spark mates to confuse the issue of mechanics, and no potential troublemakers like the twins or Wheelie," Sam continued.

"We are a diplomatic team, not an invasion force."

"Right," the young man drawled then smirked.

"And?" An optic arch rose.

"The rose garden has a fountain, try not to step on it Prime," Sam teased.

_**To be continued...**_

_Author's Notes:_

_*****1 __Lyrics writte__n by Albert Gamse as set to James Sanderson's music "Hail to the Chief" the march primarily associated with the President of the US. The song is public domain. Yes, there are real official lyrics to it even if they are rarely ever sung._

_* 2 T__he Congressional G__old Medal and the Presidential M__edal of __F__reedom are the highest civilian award__s__ that c__an be given. Sam was never__ enlisted in the military, hence the civilian awards. Though being Prime is pretty darn good for an earth kid. _

_Stay tuned for a wild ride..._


	32. Chapter 32 Appearances can be deceiving

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Yes, Unicron and Primus were Annabelle's figures. Good job to everyone who guessed right. Couple of plot surprises and twists this time around and will be continuing based on background info researched on tf wiki.

For Christmas fun, check out my new short fic "A Decepticon Christmas." Thanks to fellow writer ladyofdarkstar for her lines on Optimus disliking human lying.

Movie reminder time. In the first TF movie, after the Air Force one attack Keller says getting the President secure in the bunker is the number one priority. In ROTF, the US President assigned Galloway after Shanghai. Those are the references by Lennox. Agent Dave is an OCC. The third TF movie will have the world knowing about the Transformers but no mention who the liaison will be or the agent that started it all. Onward to fun and mayhem.

TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TRANSFORMERS

_315. Do not mistake the human's words for their spark's intent. Politicians lie and twist words to their own use while promising what they say is the absolute truth. The truly powerful never promise, they simply do, absolute truth or otherwise. _

"I thought Homeland Security encompasses all agencies, like one family," Major Will Lennox stated, trying to ease the tension in his office. The man sitting across his desk radiated polished professionalism to match his public file. Will had no doubt his private classified file would have marked him as one of the most dangerous trained operatives around.

"If the intelligence community is a family, think of us as the uncle no one talks about. Your job was to ensure the Transformer secret remained a secret. That priority has changed. Unfortunately, your dealing with the Transformers does not require the same skill set the press or a foreign power will require from here forward," the agent said.

"And the purpose of your visit is?" Will noticed the agent never touched the coffee until he had sipped his first.

"To ensure the Transformers are revealed to the world in a dignified and reassuring manner. The events in Shanghai and Egypt left many with questions, including the President. He wants answers," both hands curled around the coffee cup, fight scars visible across his knuckles.

'Like can we make this underground bunker deeper or can I still watch my NFL with all these intelligence briefings type Presidential questions?' Will thought without saying. He remembered the assigning of Galloway as the new liaison per presidential orders and how the President had run the government from the White House bunker for a week after the Fallen had been defeated as a safety measure. In addition, to avoid press briefings until his staff had fully explained what the public needed to know before he appeared in person. "Prowl is handling the travel arrangements to Washington but if you have questions, I will introduce you to the mech with the answers."

Fifteen minutes later, they walked into the main Autobot hangar, the Autobots talking among themselves in their native language. Will's fingers tapped his uniform pant leg as Dave stared up at the Transformers. Acute alien hearing recognized the soft signal pattern, discontinuing the conversation as defensive systems quietly engaged. Within one-step of the man moving forward, they scanned the new human, identifying wound scars and metal repair implants.

:: Soldier?:: Prowl sent.

:: Saboteur more likely. Dermal scarring from blades and gun shots, bone breaks and missing a kidney:: Ratchet diagnosed.

::Professional courtesy until we know he can be trusted. These are dangerous times:: Optimus

::One of the many reasons I am your second in command. In peaceful times what would I do? Act as a drink server?:: Prowl reminded. The black and white mech saluted Optimus, and then turned precision military style on his feet pads before returning the datapad back into subspace and passing the waiting humans to stand with the other Autobots. Chromia, Ironhide and Ratchet continued their conversation as though oblivious.

"Prime! New arrival is here," Will called out, keeping their sensitive hearing a secret.

"My name is Optimus Prime," the regal mech announced, kneeling down to move his faceplates in closer. The man leaned instinctively back from the huge expanse of metal and bright blue optics inches from his face but his expression stayed the same. Will folded his hand, leaving one finger straight. Autobots 1, Dave 0.

"I am Special Agent Dave. My assignment is to ensure a smooth transition of your existence into public knowledge. I have read the official military briefings and the resultant news media coverage. The first media encounters scripted but then its open season. You need to prepare for the questions."

"What would you ask?" Optimus offered, truly interested in his words and listening for the increasing heart rate as a human proceeded to tell a lie. It was a trait that disturbed him greatly, and yet there was nothing he could do about it. Humans would, in time, grow out of such dangerous habits. Until then, Optimus had to make due with what he had and protect his own.

"What is the difference of you running around, with guns, like the Deceptions?" He asked.

"The Decepticons are mechs running around with guns to enslave or destroy your world. The good guys, us Autobots, are the team running to stop the Decepticons," Chromia interrupted. Her blue optics narrowed at the man's challenge in his choice of words.

"That's your problem! You are always running after them! How about a little preemptive disclosure? You tell us everything about your species and how you think and act and we can use that information to calculate what the Decepticons are going to do next. Be there ahead of them saving countless human lives, preventing property damage and lawsuits," Dave offered.

"If you consider us advanced computers and robots as you have asked then demanded access to our technology, what makes you process your lesser technology can predict our actions?" Ratchet countered. Major Lennox smiled, holding up two fingers. Autobots 2, Dave 0.

"A different way of looking at things?"Dave faced all of them, heart rate and perspiration increasing.

"Different does not change the inherit nature of a problem. Your race considers itself wise and superior. Now you are faced with the knowledge of our existence. Your history is not one of sharing," Optimus stated.

"You are not the first alien race we have encountered. Your lack of faith in our skills is annoying," Chromia stated.

"And?"

"I have a pleasant way of dealing with annoyances. Pleasant for me at least," the femme smiled then raised an optic arch as Ironhide's engine revved deeper.

Whatever response the man would have answered stopped as a young preteen human girl raced inside on a pink striped motorbike. The bike slid to a stop in front of Ironhide and Chromia.

"Arcee, one of my team for the DC encounter," Optimus explained.

"Is that one of your holograms?" Dave asked as the young girl rider removed her helmet, shaking out blonde hair before tugging on her goggles.

"That is Annabelle, my daughter. Ironhide is her guardian but they are all protective of her. I would suggest being nice," Will softly ordered, the glint in his eyes underlying the threat behind the words.

"Hi princess. Are you going on the trip with us?" Dave smiled, suddenly out of his normal realm. No briefing mentioned a child on the Diego Base or the obvious affection the Autobots displayed for her.

"No. I have to stay here. But it's okay. Mommy is helping Aunt Susie and I have lots to do before I go home," she shrugged, tossing the gear at the bike and watched as it disappeared into a subspace pocket.

"Lots like building sand castles and seashells?"

"Wheeljack made me a sand castle. Seashells are okay but this is better. Prowl finally gave me my datapad back and I'm behind on my lessons. I learned wrong stuff and now have to learn it all over," she pulled it out from her backpack, remembering to physically handle the datapad out.

"May I learn with you? Borrow that datapad when you don't need it?" Dave asked, eying it with undisguised interest.

"No. You didn't say please," Annabelle corrected.

"Pretty please?" Agent Dave asked, blue eyes wide.

:: Is there an ugly please?:: Chromia asked over an encrypted comm line.

:: Any human without their clothes. Especially their femmes. All soft curves, not one straight line among them. Enough to fry the optics. Need to see your protoform to remember true design:: Ironhide quipped back.

:: Hush you two. Focus:: Optimus ordered.

"You have to ask Prime. That Prime. He's the biggest and oldest and if he says it's okay then it is," Annabelle smiled, pointing up and missing Optimus flash of expression and the amusement of the others. They knew she meant oldest of the current Primes in existence, compared to her and Sam.

"No hurry. I'm sure they will provide me with one later. Now, what is the best term to describe you?" Dave asked, adjusting the eye glasses on his face. The fact the glasses yellow tint increased his shooting aim added to their wariness.

"That depends," Ratchet said.

"On?"

"How you use it. We are from the planet Cybertron, making us all Cybertronian," Ratchet stated as though it should have been obvious. He moved forward, sliding between Ironhide and Chromia. Chromia smirked at her mate over the medic's shoulder plates.

"I thought you were transformers?"

"The Cybertronian mechs and femmes here on the planet have transform ability but not our entire race does. It is an added feature after the war began. As was the choosing of factions. Autobots, Decepticons and neutrals," Optimus answered.

"How can you be all that?"

"Are not you yourself are an earthling, a human of Irish and French descent born and raised as an American correct?" Prowl asked, his black and white wing doors pulling upward with rising tensions.

"Yes and I understand. I never considered that complexity to your existence," he admitted.

"I know," Annabelle raised her hand. "The best name to call them."

"What?"

"Friend."

_319. __Do not __sneak into enemy territory without an escape plan. And running is not a plan. Running is what you do when the plan fails. _

"Status of the infiltration team?" Megatron ordered, his attention on the control console. A single red light indicated the open satellite link, the room quiet as they waited. Static images of the NEST Base, though from a lower ground level view covered the monitors.

"Confirmed Diego Garcia," Soundwave's vocal a fraction on its strength out of the speaker.

"Their holographic cloaks?" Megatron asked, his metal fingers tapping the chair arm.

"Engaged. Running silent," Soundwave reported.

On the island, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe strode up the path from the main lagoon, only the irregular shape of their feet pad indents in the sand a giveaway. Ahead, sounds of moving vehicles and human voices mixed with the rustling of palm trees.

"You sure this is going to work Starscream? Not that I don't trust you and all but we are center of Autobot haven here, They blasted Ravage and we are following his tracks?" Thundercracker asked, his near whisper in Sideswipe's voice odd to his own audios.

"Why don't you go vocalizing that a little louder?" Sunstreaker snapped, spinning on his yellow armored feet pads. He grabbed the other holographically cloaked seeker, pulling them close enough their cockpits scarped against each other. "Follow my plan and I will forget your insubordination."

Ten minutes later the twins approached the hangars, careful to not step on either humans or their moving equipment. "Which hangar? Ravage's memory packet doesn't include anything but the Allspark vault."

"Easy, that one," Sunstreaker pointed toward the farthest right one.

"Why that one?"

"Because dolt, it has the strongest warnings on it in Cybertronian. The best traps protect the best high grade. Let's go," Starscream ordered.

Entering through the Transformers size door as the blasted door lock began cooling, they paused, blue optics flipping to red as they scanned the area. "Is there any order to these containers?"

"Autobots, who figures," Thundercracker muttered, kicking the nearest crate. Red optics began flipping open around the room, programs activating silently as dark shapes rose off the floor.

"Starscream to Megatron, my plan worked. We are inside and within seconds of securing the energon convertor," the encrypted signal piggybacked over the phone line, hijacked by Soundwave and relayed to the Decepticon base.

"Success is holding it in my hand," Megatron countered.

Breaking into more crates, neither seeker heard the drones approach. Then the first drone growled.

"Was that you?"

"Nah uh," Thundercracker answered, before they both began slowly turning around.

"Nice doggie? Want an energon treat?" Starscream offered as the pack closed in. The drones optics changed as the hologram shapes registered.

_CONFIRM ANTI TAMPERING LOCK_

_TARGET SIDESWIPE, SUNSTREAKER_

_COMMAND AUTHORITY PROWL, SECOND IN COMMAND_

"Who are you talking to?" Megatron demanded, blinking his optics as the low growling sounds transmitted through the speaker.

When the screams began, he rose off his throne. "Inform me the astro second they are clear."

"Soundwave acknowledges. Beginning 'Operation Retrieval."

'Prime has it easy," Megatron vented as he headed for his personal quarters for a dose of pain coding. A large dose.

**STORY ARC**

**Time for a Change (Part 8)**

"There are quite a few deep core files referencing you specifically," Ratchet said, soldering the new cable clamp in place. The overhead lights reflecting his white and green colors in the high shine of her battle armor.

'What is the human word? Nosey,' Arcee pondered, careful not to move. Reclining on the medical berth, she kept her optics anywhere but on the repairs. Med bay was her least favorite place and a tight memory lock kept the horrors of the Egypt battle from resurfacing.

"And? Your vocals are functioning," Ratchet reminded, transmorphing his fingers back into fingers and closing her leg panel.

"And?" Knowing his over active processor wanted them to be a couple or at least moving that direction. "Bumblebee is like my little brother. I care for him as family but not romantically. We are a great scout team, have the mission records to prove it. Personally, my spark requires more fire and excitement." She sat up, moving the padded blocks from around her leg.

"You mean rashness non processing I hoped this crazy rush forward maneuver should have worked mech attitude named Hot Rod! Do you know how many times I have repaired his stupidity?" he countered.

What could Arcee answer? Shrugging human style she slid off the medical berth, rolling for the opening double doors. Outside in the hallway Bumblebee waited for her, dancing and playing a cheering voices clip.

"You will be back to see me this afternoon!' Ratchet called out to her retreating form, muttering about no bot appreciating his hard work as their medic before disappearing into his private work office.

::Cheating on me with the medic? I can fix that!:: Bumblebee sent, transforming his right arm into his battle cannon.

"What gave it away? Ratchet's sensitive hands as they caress my armor? The double power pump under his chassis that revs when he's angry?" She teased, rolling down the hallway as he walked alongside.

:: More the way your wheel spins when he nears. Though it's towards the exit and not him:: Bumblebee's mental tone carried his laughter, as parts rotated into his arm, the cannon core disappearing into subspace.

"Not funny. My wheel transform is the first thing the upgrade is removing. Worse! He wants to limit me to a single spark larger chamber! No more rolling forms and the new shell body! Bigger than this one. Taller than even you with a car alt mode," she complained.

::Send me the schematics when you have them. I need to get Sam then meet you at Silverbolt. Did you hear about the hangar attack?:: Bumblebee sent, parts compacting down as his Camaro alt mode formed.

"You mean the seekers wearing the latest drone pack bounce across the landing field sighting? I still bet it was a twin prank. What would Decepticons want in Prowl's evidence hangar?" Arcee said, pulling the doors open to let him out.

::Padded cuffs?:: Bumblebee

::Oh! That is so not the image I need in my processor!:: Arcee sent back, heading the opposite direction for the main runway.

::When you upgrade your shell, will you change your designation?:: Bumblebee's mental tone carrying his curiosity.

::No, why?:: Arcee's optic shutters engaged against the tropical sunlight.

::Arcee One, D-Arcee and Archide have a nice ring to them:: Bumblebee

::Since there is no Arcee Two why would I be one?:: Arcee

::Sounds better than Bee Two:: Bumblebee

:: Is that an offer for a sparkling then? And I thought you only wanted to be friends:: Arcee teased back, frowning when a burst of static filled the line. A moment of inattention and the sudden impact knocked her onto her aft. Fumbling, bright blue optics blinked at the expanse of red flame armor metal filing her vision.

"Are you functional?" Optimus asked, bending down to help lift her up.

"Sorry sir! I didn't see you coming," she muttered, embarrassed.

"Actually I was standing still and you rolled into me," his calm statement made it worse.

"I was paying attention to the comm. 'Bee and I were talking about a sparkling, uh that is," She rolled backwards, cooling fans whirring audibly. "I need to go. Prepare and all that."

He blinked, a soft smile curving across his face as she raced away. :: Elita, have you a moment?:: Optimus activated his link to his sparkmate, sending a feeling of love with the words.

::For?:: Elita returned the feeling of love, adding contentment.

::Arcee mentioned talking to Bee about a sparkling:: Optimus

::She is? Then I better talk to her about her past:: Elita

::Do you think Arcee is ready to know?::Optimus

::She is. It's her parental mech I am unsure about. He still grieves for her parental femme. Won't even mention her name:: Elita's mental tone carried both her understanding and sympathy.

::Arcee's parental femme was an Elite guard who offlined trying to save the high council from Megatron's rampage. Her name is remembered with honor:: Optimus

::And explaining said femme was not a sparkmate? Or how her parental mech felt unworthy of raising Arcee alone since he was only a soldier? And never revealing his past even though he has been her commanding officer? Letting her think she was a war orphan? Or explaining how Arcee is connected to us? Or rather you? :: Elita challenged.

::I do not have those answers:: Optimus answered.

::Neither do I but we better get processing. Or you'll be returning with one more crew member than you left with:: Elita teased, the image of a bright pink sparkling with Optimus pointed helm and Bee's wing doors.

::Femme, is that your way of asking for a third sparkling of our own? I'm sure Air Force one's cargo bay could hold you and I hear the Washington Mall is romantic in the moonlight:: Optimus teased.

Across the highly secure military base, Silverbolt waited patiently in his plane alt mode, updating his projected course with the latest satellite information. NEST Soldiers scurried around, loading and strapping down pallets of supplies as the Autobots began rolling up to the black yellow waiting line.

::Do they plan to stack us in Silverbolt? The soldier's gear takes up more space than Ironhide! I thought a pocket comb and a wallet of money was all they needed?:: Arcee balanced precisely on the kickstand, more a prop than a real need.

::For a night out on the town but not combat missions. You should know that by now:: Bumblebee teased, rolling to a stop next her racing bike mode. Ironhide and Chromia waited behind her, also in their alt modes.

"How long is this flight again?" Sam asked, climbing slowly out of Bumblebee's alt mode. The mini bot transformed, careful to stand between the bright tropical sun and his human charge.

"Sixteen hours straight to the base, hour's drive from there once NSA clears the freeway," Will answered first, his attention on his men as they secured their gear.

"That long?"

"Long?" Ironhide echoed. "I've had timing delays on bombs that lasted longer than that."

"You've lasted longer than that when we," Chromia began when a deep revving engine of the semi behind her drowned out the noise. The Autobot symbol on the front grill seemed to glare as Optimus idled his mobile engine.

"Humans and youngling present," he reminded, his regal baritone filling the truck cab.

"I was going to vocalize longer when Ironhide held me down to..." Chromia continued.

Bumblebee hummed, pretending to plug his audios.

"Protect me from Decepticon fire before blasting their worthless afts into debris," Chromia finished, rocking back and forth on her axles.

"Which time Mia?"

"Does it matter other than you were in my arms and my spark?" her wheels rolling forward to touch their alt modes together.

"Ahh, mommy and daddy kiss too," a familiar little girl's voice echoed from atop the nearest crate.

"ANNABELLE!"

The young girl leaned over the container, propping herself up on her elbows. "Hi! Can I come too? I got my kitty bag packed."

"Where are the twins? They were suppose to be watching you!" Ratchet asked, his vocal agitated.

"Holding down the fort sort of," she giggled. "They are hiding in my sand castle after accidentally rolling over Epps iPod again. He loves to listen when flying and they were afraid he'd be all madded."

"I'd love to hold them," Ironhide grumbled.

"You really shouldn't say I love you unless you mean it. But if you do, you should say it a lot. People forget," Annabelle said, climbing down off the crate, holding her pink overnight bag.

"I never forget," Chromia purred, her bumper tugging on Ironhide's trailer hitch.

"You better come with us youngling. Keep Ironhide from blowing a processor. But he will need your help with the sparklings the week we are gone. Can you do that?" Ratchet asked.

"Sure! I'm good at helping!" She waved, swinging into Ironhide through the open driver window.

"Use the door next time," Ratchet grumbled.

Optimus vented, settling lower on his axles. 'First Ironhide accompanies us to ensure our safety when arriving. Then Chromia tags along to make sure he returns to Diego Garcia and now Annabelle. Primus, why do I bother with orders? Megatron has it easy.'

_To be continued..._


	33. Chapter 33 Dads, existing and snowballs

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Many of the things mentioned in the classified discussion of the story arc are from previous chapters and some are official TF canon, some are not. And a few twists you probably never saw coming. But Laserbeak snoring is official canon, sounding like a mini buzz saw. G1 era choose your own adventure book "Decepticon Poison" mentions it. Onward to saying something before considering what you are saying.

TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TRANSFORMERS

"He was dead set against losing," Major Lennox commented, a quick glance ensuring the Autobots standing down from their defensive positions. If they lowered weapons and removed battle masks, the fight was over. The snow smoked in humps here and there with scattered debris and burning fragments as the soldiers moved into the open from the pine trees and gulleys they had used for cover.

"Just dead now," Epps noted, kicking the metal with his boot. The Decepticon drone lay on its side, the multiple pinchers twisted below the darkened three orbs that were its optics and guidance system.

"Like our last budget request," Will sighed, wiping at the sweat dripping from his forehead from their exertions despite the sub zero temperatures. The wind howled through the forest, scattering snow like a crystal blanket over the destruction of broken trees and shattered rocks.

"That bad? How do they expect us to keep the planet safe if we can't fuel the planes with gas? Carry enough sabot shells or be ready to move out fast? What? Bad guys have to give two day notice and stand there while we blow their sparks with pea shooters?"

"Our new budget situation is scary, despite the appropriations committee understanding the level of the threat," Will said.

"How scary sir?" Graham asked, shaking out his damp beret before replacing it on his head.

"It should be told around a campfire at night. Currently on the table are base reductions, specialized drop teams, and if necessary, let the Decepticons take what they want and leave without engaging them."

"Ouch!" Seven sets of blue optics snapped to the human, scans confirming no physical damage before returning to monitor the surrounding area. The ski resort on the other side of the mountain an unaware and defenseless gathering of potential human targets if they missed even one drone left behind when Starscream retreated.

"NEST relies on partial funds from the Transformers and the dividends from their technological advances but under the treaty, half of our funding must be from the government to prevent a conflict of interest," the staff sergeant reminded.

"No rent a cop or rent an army situation. Only politicians would be afraid we could be bought. We are the US Army not renegade mercs," Jorgensen huffed, removing her helmet to let her long red hair swing free. Grimacing, she began untangling the hair from the twigs caught in it. They froze as half a dozen boulder size snowballs went flying overhead, Bumblebee clapping and laughing as they hit the twins.

"Ten bucks say the twins win this one," Epps called out to Will as the mechs in question ran by them.

"Win a snowball fight? Your team should focus on important matters not pranks. No wonder they can't stop the Decepticons," Agent Dave said, his head barely visible, hunched inside his thermal coat.

"We saved your planet enough," Ironhide moved closer, the squeak of a hip gear accenting his step.

"Saved? You're so busy covering your afts with defensive movements and securing ancient artifacts you can't win."

"Your government's plan to handle Megatron was to turn Sam over, unacceptable," Optimus ground out, his blue optics deepening in color.

"That was a plan, not necessarily our best," Agent Dave admitted, the snow crunching underfoot as he moved out of Optimus' shadow back into the sunlight. "What the?" A gigantic snowball the size of a small house with yellow armored legs and arms went rolling by.

Will pulled out his wallet, removing a bill before handing it to Epps. "The Pentagon is aware of the budget situation."

"Let me guess. Regrettably they can't do a thing about it?" Graham said, retrieving the pieces of a broken sabot launcher.

"Not in this economy."

"The economy is improving, according to human news reports," Arcee commented, her pink armor resembling a kid's snowsuit against the white snow as she rolled closer. The femme warrior blinked at their sounds of disagreement.

"And the recession is over? Then I am the Easter Bunny! How many eggs ya want this coming year? We're even gonna do chocolate ones. Prefrozen to keep them from melting. Coming straight from my good buddy Santa Claus in the North Pole. 'Cause we got it like that! If you can correctly guess the number of bank closures and job layoffs this year, we will double your rations! Err...eggs," Epps intoned before moving back to let Ironhide sling the offlined drone into the cargo net.

"Anybot seen Bumblebee? He needs to help me secure the cargo net," Arcee glanced around then noticed them all pointing down the slope. At the long sliding trail disappearing into a cluster of trees. Swearing, the femme transformed down into her alt mode to follow it.

"Ten bucks says Arcee wipes the twins," Epps offered.

"No bet. Bee can handle his own once he gets free. Not every day Sunstreaker uses his freeze ray. Only wiping is going to be Arcee in the wash racks with Bee," Jorgensen chuckled then noticed their looks. "What? No romance in your lives? They are about the same age and size and make a cute couple."

"Arcee has a mech on Cybertron per the reports. They are a combat team only," Agent Dave muffled, ignoring the woman's glare.

"And a good one. I only hope we can afford to keep them in the field. Our new budget plan is suppose to be comprehensive for all contingencies of budgetary requirements," Will quoted.

"I am really getting to hate that word, 'comprehensive.' Because it always means that US citizens and taxpayers are screwed!" the Sergeant swore.

"The Transformers sent their most important artifact into space to save their race. They turned the largest shard of it over to human safekeeping. We lose it, Megatron returns and both the kid and Prime die. They know sacrifices and tough decisions. They will not abandon us even if everyone else does. And they know we will do the same for them."

_# 297 Do not__ make my job harder with lists. * The rule Prowl wishes he could make_

"Zero casualties human or Autobot, nineteen combat drones and an assortment of weapons grade devices retrieved. A successful mission," Prowl said. His black and white wing doors dipped lower, relaxing a little as the last of the drones were offloading via the plane outside. Inside the hangar, he continued the post mission debrief before catching up miscellaneous problems. "Sunstreaker, you got another speeding ticket," Prowl admonished.

"I was going forty miles an hour!" he protested.

"You were in a school zone. Posted speed is twenty miles per hour to ensure the safety of the children walking."

"For a high school? They should be old enough to jump out of the road by that age," the twin grumped.

"That's the worse age," Will rolled his eyes, having dealt with many a new soldier fresh out of high school.

"Sam was a teenager when we meet him and Annabelle will become a teen in a few years. Be as pretty and fiery as Mikeala plus. No level to the trouble that will cause," Master Sergeant Epps teased. The black officer hid a smile as Ironhide twitched, thinking of his human ward being a full shaped teenager.

"I will protect her, no trouble allowed," he grumbled, bringing his arms up to emphasize the attached war cannons.

"Ironhide, we do not hurt humans," Optimus admonished.

"Scare 'im not hurt. And that didn't stop you from threatening that official last month," Ironhide challenged.

"I did not threaten. I informed him that after landing in the mud of the pigsty he could not ride in my cab. I engaged the locks to keep him from opening the door and slipping to fall while climbing inside," the ancient Prime said.

"Don't look at me," Sideswipe protested. "I needed to transform for battle and he wouldn't leave. I had to toss him out. The mud patch landing was unintentional."

"Could have hung an air freshener around his neck like they do on us. Maybe that will make them move faster," Sunstreaker suggested.

"There is a rule against that. Next issue, the continuation of unauthorized lists," Prowl said, displaying them on the hangar wall.

**#294 _You know you exist around Decepticons when you:_**

_a. Are worried about making it back to tell the others what you have found on a mission._

_b. Try to plan out attack routes, avenues of retreat and where to trench in._

_c. Put off recharge tracking them across the ruins._

_d. Keep your optics open at all times to prevent a sneak attack._

_e. Want to scream in frustration for their obsession with war and mistrust._

_f. Realize very little they do on the battlefield surprises you._

_g. Are bothered by their cries when hurt or offlining._

_h. Call a parts grabber or field medic after each encounter._

_i. Have subspace pockets filled with spare weaponry and traps._

_j. Realize the only thing you cuddle or sleep alongside is your weapon._

_k. You pray to Primus the war will end and try to not process how many lives have been lost on both sides._

_l. Your definition of evil is the terrible destruction war causes._

**_# 295 You know you exist around Humans when you:_**

_a. Worry about surviving after telling Ironhide or Bumblebee you lost their favorite human._

_b. Try to plan out online game strategies, nearest fast food restaurants and where to hide when they need a ride to the mall._

_c. Wonder how they recharge in so many positions on almost any surface when tired._

_d. Keep your optics open least you step on one. _

_e. Want to scream in frustration for their obsession with war and mistrust._

_f. Are surprised they survive their own stupidity._

_g. Are bothered by their cries when they are hurt and you are unable to repair them._

_h. Call for an ambulance and alert the local emergency room after their painful encounter with the ground. You will not tell them 'the odds beat them' this stunt._

_i. Have subspace pockets filled with snack foods, spare clothes, a pillow and the latest DVD's._

_j. Cuddle them when cold or sick until help arrives and smile when they cuddle their teddy bear, doll or mate._

_k. Try not to process how long you will live past them._

_l. Your definition of evil are the pranks they pull on you, knowing you cannot retaliate in full without injuring their fragile bodies. _

**_# 296 You know you exist around Sparklings and younger Transformers when you:_**

_a. Worry telling your mate you lost him / her / them for even a astro second from your optical range._

_b. Try to plan out feeding times, cleaning, and play times around military schedules and meetings._

_c. Wish they would recharge at night so you could too._

_d. Have optics in the back of your helm to keep them out of trouble._

_e. Wonder how they can scream that loud when hungry or frustrated._

_f. Never cease to be amazed at their innocence and wonder at the world around them._

_g. Are spark broken when they cry after purging from too many energon treats._

_h. Call for Ratchet when they are sick, scramble to find their favorite toy and know every flavor of energon they like._

_i. Have subspace pockets filled with mini energon bottles, toys, changing hoses for tiny waste tanks and sani wipes with cleanser gel._

_j. Cuddle your sparkling close, amazed at the joy they bring your existence._

_k. Pray to Primus you will remain online long enough to see them reach full maturity._

_l. Your definition of evil is the medic you answers your midnight panic call with 'It's normal. Walk and comfort them until they fall into recharge. Call me if their condition worsens.'_

Will laughed, noting how the Transformers pointed at each other for certain rules. "I called our family doctor more in Annabelle's first year than my entire life for myself up to that point," he reminisced before frowning at the increasing noises outside. "I thought they were transferring those retrieved Decepticon drones from the docks to Wheeljack's lab. What are they doing?"

The crackling sound of the base intercoms mixed with distant human yelling. "Incendiary device! Ironhide and containment teams to the beach path stat!" Running feet pads shook the hangar as mass pounded by, blue optics deepening under battle protocols.

:: Secure the humans, let the buildings and equipment go:: Optimus ordered, gesturing towards the men running towards the silver orb sunk in the sand. A single drone stood over it, half its shell blasted away with the other half-firing energy blasts all directions.

"How did it?" Agent Dave began when the drone spun his direction. The impact from behind knocking him down, the weight pinning as a voice hissed in his ear. Blasts ricocheted overhead, the crackling energy feeling like lightning striking nearby.

"Stay down you idiot!"

"Major Lennox?"

"Only cause a Transformer saving you would have imprinted you into the pavement." Optimus ion rifle fired once, blasting the drone into shrapnel without touching the orb below.

"And change your aftershave, it stinks," nose wrinkling, Will rose up, kneeling and looking around before taking command. "Clear the area! Drone is gone but not the danger! Move it people, you know the drill!"

"How much time is left? Maybe I can...," Ironhide hesitated, the clicking getting noticeably louder and faster. "Oh pit. RUN!"

Soldiers scrambled all directions, hugging weapons closer. Rising in pitch, the clicking became a near supersonic scream as though a banshee warning of doom. Agent Dave knelt there, mouth open before scrambling towards the nearby sand dune. The concussive blast lifted him and the surrounding soldiers into the air. Black armored hands rotated, saving two from crashing head first as they all slid. Then the rolling waves of sand poured in.

Choking, swearing the soldiers pushed and wiggled to free themselves as giant armored hands gently cradled them into open air. Each Transformer rescued soldiers, optics scanned down to the cellular level, diagnosing bruises before releasing or moving the truly wounded to the arriving medical teams.

"Any...cough...choke... help...gasp...spit... here?" Dave's voice sputtered around his attempts to breath as his head and shoulders cleared the scattered sand drift.

"Sorry, my hands are busy covering my aft. No artifact to retrieve this time," Ironhide grunted, uncurling to rise out of the sand alongside like a black angel of death.

"Got slagging sand in my gears," Chromia complained, yellow clumps falling in soft pats from her blue wiggling chassis.

"Got...my...gears," Ironhide rumbled, his optics only on her.

"Help me out?" Dave tried rocking side to side in his pile, freeing only one arm.

"Can't. He is my sparkmate. His aft is mine too," Chromia purred, sliding her hands all over his black armor and upwards until they clasped each other's hands.

"Why did we side with the Autobots again?" Dave grumbled.

**STORY ARC**

**Time for a Change (Part 9)**

Optimus faced his troops, the battle mask alternately hiding his smile and twist of lip plates with frustration. 'I gave specific orders,' he processed. 'Limiting my arrival team and they are ignored. We arrive secretly here at DC to find more of my command waiting. Their excuse? If you didn't know we were here the Decepticons and human troublemakers won't know either.' His optics lightened, systems monitoring the humans movements in the next building through the installed security system. Major Lennox, Sam and Annabelle reviewed the proposed presidential schedule with Agent Dave, Arcee standing alongside Sam, the only bot small enough to fit inside the room to guard them. 'The secret service is in charge but no plan covers all contingencies.'

"The fact Sam is single?" Hound asked. The green armored scout could not wait to do recon in the main city, excited to visit the monuments.

"Only if directly asked. Humans have a preoccupation with marital status and his lack of a companion would draw unwanted femme attention," Prowl noted, typing across his datapad. His black and white wing doors barely fitting between Ultra Magnus and Optimus wider chassis. Unlike them, he had plenty of room above his helm.

"The fact Mikeala dumped him?" Mirage spoke, his aristocratic vocal at odds with his use of the human slang term.

"_My achy breaky heart,_" Bumblebee playing the chorus from the song.

"Classified. She is a civilian who assisted in a war situation. We will not mention her training with Ratchet for our race. It could compromise her safety," Optimus said, wondering how they were going to explain needing three cargo planes back to Diego Garcia when done.

"Sam and Annabelle as human Primes?"

"Classified beyond top secret. Humans tried wiping their memories, and explaining they have gifts from the original Primes would complicate matters. Humans use the term telekinetic but it does not explain Annabelle's ability to manipulate metal or Sam's gift of ambassadorial communication skills. Humans would experiment on them or worse," Ratchet reminded. The medic felt torn between his chosen profession and being drawn into his old duties as a politician with hidden agendas and half told truths.

"Not with us around. You comm if things go to pit and the press can clean their White House underwear," Ironhide promised, Chromia adding her growl as the others not invited nodded or added their assents.

::It's a White House press briefing. As in short informational talking not briefs underwear. Time to play in the big leagues:: Bumblebee corrected, playing the sounds of a baseball home run and applause.

"Are we an invasion force or what?" Jazz asked.

"Estimates limit our numbers to the low thousands at best, spread across numerous galaxies. We are not a threat to the earth," Prowl replied, his tactician processor not shying away from how few of their race remained. He vented as they all stared at him. "Rhetorical question?"

"Rhetorical but valid. Myself, Prowl and Jazz will answer questions of a political or military basis. Ratchet and Ironhide are in charge of field operations and to stay clear of the media. The rest of you check with us first before revealing your existence if you have any doubts. Humans are a young race and like the young, they are easily frightened with their limited view of the universe. We do not intend to keep secrets from them but knowledge is dangerous," Optimus reminded.

"They don't know the Allspark cube is rebuilt but dormant, they don't know we rescued the Matrix of Leadership from the pyramid ruins or how many times we have influenced their world, including space bridges and moon landings. All classified," Prowl clicked off items on his list.

"Speaking of worlds, no mentioning Rone is from Paradron," Ratchet said.

"I don't even know where Paradron is," Ultra Magnus muttered.

"How about Wheelie and Jetfire as Decepticons turned Autobot? Or that some of the Constructicons were once Autobots enslaved and controlled by a Con virus? Understand the personal cost of the war?"

"No. Director Galloway believed our intentions to be evil without proof. If the humans have cause to doubt us, or that our loyalties may shift, they will never trust us. We must reassure them we will strive to keep their world from suffering Cybertron's fate," Optimus stated.

"Galloway had access to all the NEST records, including human casualties. What if they get leaked, like other military files?" Mirage asked, his regal blue and silver frame reflecting the brighter reds and blue from Magnus and Optimus.

"The truth told with evil intent is worse than any lie we could invent," a human's deep voice intoned as Bumblebee played the quote.

"We agreed to the military's judgment to hide our operations and resulting casualties both civilian and enlisted. If asked, myself of Prowl will handle those questions. There is much we have kept from the humans, military included," their leader reminded.

"The military already know about sparklings," Jazz said.

"Classified, especially after the lone kidnapping attempt. Elita and Grimlock will sign off jointly on any attempt to view or learn about them," Prowl stated.

"Grimlock signs?" Mirage asked, his optics wide.

"Claw print here, claw print there," Jazz joked.

"How about Antares as a parental femme and Gilese her daughter?" Hound asked, his personal interest in the daughter kept out of his vocal.

"They worked with Elita on Cybertron before coming here, as did Override. They are proven warriors and welcome within our ranks. Family relationships are cleared except that fact that Megatron is my spark brother," Optimus said.

"The twins?"

"Acknowledge that they exist without explaining their unique spark connection or the fact Arcee was once a split spark in separate units," Optimus said.

"How about Arcee being my daughter?" Ultra Magnus asked. The silence that followed broken by hydraulics moving as jaw gears dropped.

"Never mentioned, until now," Optimus pinched his nose plates with his armored fingers, ignoring the shocked and surprised looks on the others. Only a select few knew and the discussion of revealing the information had never included this.

"Too late to keep it a secret?" Magnus asked sheepishly, a blue armored hand rubbing at the back of his curved helm.

"That depends," Ratchet remarked, reaching out to steady Prowl as his white and black chassis began tilting over. "The Decepticons probably missed hearing that."

"As did Arcee and we will not tell her," Optimus rumbled, wondering if the Decepticons had family issues too.

**DECEPTICON BASE**

**COMMAND CENTER**

Megatron watched the Decepticons assembling before his command chair, the irreverent phrase drifting through his processor, _'I'm the boss, need the info.'_ The self appointed battle Lord and living weapon dismissed most of them as warriors, capable of little else. Their datapads with their suggestions for troops to call from Cybertron to join them personal friends or troublemakers left behind for a reason. Starscream faced him openly, the usual sneer on his faceplates and silver chassis defiant as his datapad cluttered on top of theirs.

Soundwave entered last, the cassette warriors following like ducks in a row as he spun on his square feet pads to face Megatron. His silver battle mask hid any expression as did his monotone voice. "Reporting as ordered Lord Megatron."

"Where is your datapad?"

"Ravage ate it," Soundwave answered.

A silver optic arch rose as the arm shifted fractionally, bringing the arm cannon more towards the center of the others blue chest plating.

"Laserbeak spilled energon on it! Honest! Ravage couldn't resist," Rumble jumped in verbally. The small cassette's red optics widened as the cannon dropped lower his direction.

"Why?" Megatron's one word held the force of command.

"The energon?" Rumble's optics remained on the arm cannon. "Was high grade. We weren't suppose to have it. It was an accident! You know Ravage has a weakness for it."

"Where did you get high grade?"

"Confiscated from Starscream's quarters. Chased a robo rat in there under the door and tripped over it."

"What? The only robo rat was you Rumble! I hid it in a ceramic jar! One I brought that back from Egypt!" the seeker protested.

"Stolen artifact," Soundwave countered.

"Laserbeak got his head stuck in the narrow opening drinking it. Smashed it against the wall to free himself spilling the energon on the datapad below for Ravage to slurp up," Rumble added.

"Where is Laserbeak now? I will ask him myself," The leader's tone betrayed none of his personal caring for the spy cassette.

"Skywarp is retrieving, east lock corridor," Soundwave answered.

**EAST SIDE AIRLOCK**

**WATER ENTRANCE**

"How nice, a welcoming party, complete with piñata," the gravelly vocal noted, the green and black armor moving into visual range as Lockdown stepped through the outer lock iris. Water dripped onto the floor, pooling

into streams as gravity pulled it down.

"His name is Laserbeak and he's Megatron's favorite," Skywarp warned, holding the recharging cassette upside down by his claws. A faint buzzing sound emanated from the bird, the sound increasing as the mechanical bird's jaw gear opened further.

"Favorite noise maker?"

"He snores when he recharges. Wake him and it is your sounds of pain. Those ruby powered lasers cut into even Prime," the tall seeker warned, his silver painted wings swept back in the narrow corridor.

"You would know of Primes, would you not Skywarp? No smart answer? No flashy display of your wit? Uh huh," he moved to block the seeker, both bracing against the left wall. "You are not leaving until I have my proof," Lockdown abruptly shifted, taking a very large step to the right as Skywarp moved, again blocking him.

"Proof I read the briefings or proof I've been on the battlefield? Every bot here knows Prime. He kicks aft. Unless you are Megatron then he kicks everything. Nothing new to us." Again Skywarp moved left, Lockdown matching, his green and black chassis blocking the corridor.

"Proof you are not who the others think you are. I have tortured mechs from both sides, taking what pitiful knowledge they contain and added it to my own. Primes are rare. But they can breed."

"Then talk to Elita. If she doesn't take your spikes for a pet turbo fox collar," Again, Skywarp moved to the side, Laserbeak open wings swaying with the motion.

"Make me." Red optics met red optics before Skywarp's form shimmered disappearing. The flash further down the hallway signaling his teleport in.

"As I processed. I have seen the footage from Egypt when the Fallen grabbed the Matrix, disappearing to reappear on the pyramid. That exact same way."

"That ancient wreck couldn't even transform! No installed weapons and you are processing that slagheap is my sire? He tried to raise an army in gel pods without enough energon to power a cluster of force sparked monsters let alone their numbers. Any mech that wastes sparks, even artificially created ones doesn't have the processor ability to attract a femme let alone merge with her!"

"Who designed your ability then? What scientist made it, giving it to you that no other mech or femme has ever had? Decepticon or Autobot? Not even Wheeljack could copy your design. And he studied you as a prisoner. Your system designs lay bare before Cybertron's best engineer. You have the Fallen's power," the assassin hissed.

"And you have the manners of a cyber rat! Look at this floor! Can you ever not drip on it!" Starscream's screech interrupted them both.

"Slag off!" Lockdown's claw hand rose to match his energon mace as he turned sideways to face the seeker in front and behind.

"If the Autobots leave enough! And if you want to know that badly, ask the Fallen yourself! I am sure your precious fighting skills will have you in the well of sparks in no time! Let's go Skywarp," Starscream retorted, grabbing the other seeker by his free arm and half dragging him down the hallway, their wings overlapping as they moved.

Hissing threats, Lockdown stomped the other direction, leaving a trail of water down the metal corridor. At the first connection, Starscream turned right, keying open the first doorway. Once inside the room, Skywarp shuddered, nearly dropping Laserbeak. "Screamer...I...that is...I'm not a Prime."

"I disagree. You are a Prime pain in the aft with your pranks. Bah, that worthless hunk of metal processes what he wants to. If I was about to offline I'd tell him anything so my last image wasn't his ugly plating. The Fallen ordered Optimus destroyed as the last Prime capable of defeating him. I never heard him add "Only a Prime can defeat me, or Skywarp." That mystic dumbo jumbo is the reason Cybertron dies! We need to look to the future! With me as leader!" The silver jet announced, striding around the narrow room.

"But Screamer," he began again.

"I've known that you might be a descendant from the first combat test all those vorns ago on Cybertron. We are a trine. I know your secrets to protect you, wherever the secrets are from and I understand wanting to make your own fate. Primes are chosen not made and you choose to serve the Decepticon cause! You are no more a Prime than Megatron," Starscream snarled.

"And?"

"And I have the perfect plan to remove that pest Lockdown from interfering with our takeover. Here is what we are going to do..." Starscream said. The closing door hid their voices from any bot passing in the hallway.

_To be continued..._


	34. Chapter 34 Lockdown's end & cleaner bots

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. If someone wants, you can explore the concept of Skywarp as the Fallen's descendant in a fic. That plot bunny is this week's featured adoption. * grins * I am more than willing to share any idea or concept, since none of us own Transformers, regardless of the energy and time we spend writing about them. Paramount, Hasbro and whoever else legally does. This is for fun not profit. Onward to mistaken identities.

TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TRANSFORMERS

"_Do not ignore subtle signs of anger or depression in our troops. A medic can repair their processors but a true leader can give hope to the darkest of sparks." Primus Book of Laws, section 1a, subsection 4d, line 9._

"Bumblebee," Optimus began, his regal baritone hiding his exasperation. The tall red and blue armored mech kept his multi part feet pads close together, perfectly balanced as he took small treads in the few open spaces. Though smaller than his own rooms, it was the overflowing items everywhere creating the problem moving around. "I expect personal quarters to remain habitable if not clean and organized. I processed as a sparkling, and then a youngling you would outgrow your tendency to be messy. Now," his blue optics scanned over the piles. "I barely have room to stand. Are you keeping Sam's possessions?"

:: A little. He stays on base now that he and Mikeala split but in the human quarters. This is mostly mine. I had to reset my subspace pullers, all of them:: Bumblebee replied embarrassed, the dual air vents on his helm flattening into their recesses.

"Wheeljack is the one mech who has carried more than this in his subspace pockets as a professional necessity. How does human candy, video games and action figures assist you as a scout?" Optimus asked, pushing the nearest pile with the end of his silver footpad.

:: Help pass the time? My cleaner bot is down but I will sort this. I promise:: Bumblebee sent, feeling like a youngling again, only without all the toy boxes he use to have to hide everything. His armored hands began grabbing items, a single slip of paper evading his grasp as it fluttered away.

Optimus scanned the sheet automatically, committing it to memory in an astro second before it disappeared into a yellow armored palm to join comic books and spare ammo clips on the cabinet shelf.

_You know you're addicted to humans when:_

_31. You like to recharge at set times after the sun sets instead of when and where you can on the battlefield._

_32. Your last stay in med bay was not from battle injuries but swerving to miss an earth animal darting onto the road. (The animal survived, the trees you hit didn't.)_

_33. You worry more about tracking your human friends than Decepticon spies and assault teams._

_34. You have ever confided a secret to a human and not to your own race._

_35. You have actually learned a combat move from Chuck Norris._

_36. You spot all the mistakes and plot gaps in a science fiction or monster movie and missed the obvious mistakes in your post action report._

_37. You want to know more of human thinking and wished you had deleted that idea from your processor at first appearance._

_38. Use holograms for non approved purposes, knowing humans cannot tell the difference._

_39. Know more slang terms to describe an idiot, bad situation, or annoyance than officially approved government acronyms._

_40. Built and designed more things in miniature for human use than increasing your own gear to be bigger and better._

Chuckling, Optimus let the unofficial document slide before leaving. At the command meeting later that afternoon, he shared a description of the room. "Do a junkion proud."

"He's always messy Optimus. Never change," Ironhide commented, his optics noting the military hangar they stood in was clean and organized. Except the coffee area, that overflowed with the soldiers favorite coffee mugs and types of flavored creamers.

"I'm worried it's a warning sign about his processing ability," Ratchet commented, his faceplates reflecting his seriousness.

"You worry about everything med bot."

"On the contrary, I ignore you when I can 'Hide," Ratchet retorted, folding his arms over his grill chest bars.

"Remember that the next time your aft needs saving," the weapons specialist vented.

"Bumblebee may need saving. He has destroyed his last three cleaning bots. The first he claimed rolled over a dropped weapons charge and blew itself apart. I fined him a thousand credits and reminded him of the rules regarding proper ammunition storage," Prowl stated, his wing doors nearly upright, reflecting his uneasiness with the subject. The black and white armor armored officer stood next to Prime and Ratchet but turned at a partial angle to give his wider wing doors room.

"The second cleaner he lost when he left the door open. It rolled outside and under a M1A2 tank. He turned the pieces into Wheeljack who melted them for a new bot before I could confirm the tire tracks were a tank and not Bumblebee's. I assigned the youngling to research at least fifty dumb ways humans hurt themselves. He found over two hundred as a reminder to keep humans out with locked doors. Their tendency to pick up and grab anything they are curious about is the worst habit," Ratchet stated.

"The current bot he claims to have accidentally bumped, flipping it upside down off its wheels before he tripped over it the next morning, falling and flattening it," Prowl handed over his datapad with the reports.

"And?" Optimus asked, not understanding their concern. The cleaner bots were simple devices, readily made. Elita never processed they cleaned well enough, banning them from their quarters. Otherwise, they operated in most of the Autobot areas due to earth's dirt and plants. "Bumblebee's dedication and skill made him a precise scout and reliable. Traits we need in the field. His quarters do not represent his abilities."

"I'm worried his reasons for their destruction are excuses," Ratchet stated, as though giving a medical diagnosis that should have been obvious. Like a bent hood from hitting a solid object at high speed.

"Course they are. Mech won't keep a neat room and it's more fun to guard Sam or complete scout missions than scrub the floor. Ain't a chore high on my list," Ironhide vented, the air intakes blowing only on Ratchet's arm plates to his irritation. The medic moved over a step, glaring at him.

"We are worried the destroyed bots are expressions of his anger. A stress relief on the only Cybertronian form smaller and lighter than him," Prowl stated, his black white chassis motionless.

"You process the cleaning bots were destroyed deliberately?" Optimus realized, his blue optics dimming as he considered it. Troops under his command broke or failed their self-protections, striking out at their teammates or even hurting themselves. Post battle stress could fragment the most stable processor in subtle ways.

"Arcee is smaller in her three rolling units," Ironhide countered, beginning to get worried about not spending enough time with the youngling. He accepted the datapad from Optimus, scanning the details for himself. His black armored fingers compressed the case edges as the small amount of data neither cleared nor proved the little mech's intentions.

"And now she is incorporating back into one unit, nearly twice his height and firepower. He is still our smallest and youngest Transformer, not counting the sparklings, hence why I asked Prime to check on him," Ratchet reminded, gesturing up at their leader.

"Why didn't you ask me?" Ironhide grumbled, the frown on his faceplates deepening. The datapad went sailing into the air, Prowl reaching out to catch it expertly before returning it to subspace.

"You are his guardian and authority figure. Also the one who encourages the worse of his habits," Ratchet answered bluntly.

"Ah do not!"

"You gave him his first weapon!"

"A cyber pellet slingshot is not a weapon," Ironhide countered.

"It hurt when he used real ammo! Which he got from you," the medic pointed a rounded finger at him.

"He stole from my berth locker. Smart bot figure out the lock combo. And I grounded him for it," taking two steps closer he stood with his wide black armored chest plates inches away from the other's black metal chest bars.

"Hah! You brought him sweetened energon three times a cycle and stayed with him, spoiling him rotten instead of assigning him a cleaning detail like the twins!" Ratchet argued, not intimidated by the distance. It made him easier to hit with a wrench rather than throw it.

"As a second shell youngling! He was too little to leave alone. And a cleaning detail? When our smallest sweeper broom is longer than he is?" the ancient mech snorted.

"Bumblebee was old enough to know how to aim at one of us," Prowl stated, secretly treasuring the memory of walking into the recreation room to a scene he could never have imagined. The little bot pinning down the larger Autobots hiding behind every chair or couch. Any helm or limbs moving into view hit with electro shock shells from his slingshot. The same confiscated slingshot now hidden safely in Prowl's personal subspace field.

"What would you prefer? Throwing wrenches? Jet Judo? Watching cyber porn? That adult enough?" Ironhide challenged, the faintest trace of red glimmering in his optics.

"Peace you two. We will watch him carefully and offer our help. Schedule a full medical exam and maintenance tests without causing further stress," Optimus ordered.

Unaware of the concern over his clumsiness, Bumblebee spent three days sorting his stuff, gladly sharing extras with the other Autobots. Optimus and Ironhide spent more time with him to his delight. Then his new cleaning bot developed a glitch, rolling down the hallway and outside at super speeds. Determined to protect it, Bumblebee chased it around several buildings before sliding and grabbing it. Holding it triumphantly over his head as he climbed back to his feet pads, it spun and whirred nearly breaking free. 'Break off the wheels and weld them back on later. Keep it safe that way,' he processed.

"Bumblebee! What in Primus name!" Ratchet's shout startling him into the transform for his arm cannon as the cleaner fell to the ground along with the ripped off wheels. Enhanced medical optics caught the folding out then reversing metal slides on the small scout and the broken parts.

:: My cleaner bot! It was acting wrong:: Bumblebee sent, gesturing at the vibrating device. Without wheels, it wobbled side to side as though convulsing.

"Let me call Wheeljack to repair it. Meanwhile talk to me. Did you get my message about a check up later this week? I'm free to listen now if you need to talk about anything," Ratchet offered, his fingers ready to trans morph into an injection needle. Ironhide and Optimus appeared moments later around opposite ends of the building, called secretly by Ratchet. Both moved in slowly, defenses raised and systems ready to tackle the young mech if needed.

::I can fix it. Need the plans from Wheeljack. It's nothing really: Bumblebee sent. Embarrassed, the young scout wanted away and back to his room to finish cleaning before they saw it. Instead he spent the afternoon in med bay completing every physical and mental evaluation. Optimus and Ironhide waited outside the med bay doors, determined to get an answer.

It was Arcee who figured out Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were changing the cleaner bots for pranks by disabling their self-protocols and guidance sensors. She never believed Bumblebee capable of senseless violence, searching for a reason. Then found it accidentally while leaving a replacement bot for him.

"I turned it on and it slams into my foot pad before ricocheting around the room like a crazed scraplet. I ended up balancing on the end table to avoid it while filming as proof you were not the problem," she confided to Bumblebee over evening energon. "It made quite a mess of your stuff. You really should add more cabinets to store it all. And your table needs replacing."

::Is that the table in the scrap heap? All bent and folded inward?:: Bumblebee

"This new one frame form is heavier than I calculated for," she mumbled, her faceplates heating with embarrassment.

::Use to dance on the tables did you? I heard what happened the last time you got into high grade:: He quipped before fleeing down the hallway at full speed, Arcee right behind. Prowl merely sidestepped them, flattening his wing doors against the wall, the datapad in his hand tucked alongside his leg armor to protect it.

"Bee! You get back here ! I'll dance on you in a way you'll never forget!" Arcee yelled as they passed.

"Nice to see things are returning to normal," Prowl noted, updating the datapad and sending a note to Ratchet to have mini bot joint gears and Arcee's new armor paint color ready for later. '83% probability their scuffle will turn into a wrestling submissive match based on previous encounters. 17% chance they will mate, though unlikely given Arcee' expressed desire for other mechs. 96% probability Arcee and Bumblebee will retaliate against the twins in a creative manner. 100% I will enjoy hearing and seeing those results.'

**STORY ARC**

**Time for a Change (Conclusion pt 1)**

**DECEPTICON BASE**

**SOUNDWAVE'S LAB**

"Laserbeak, eject," Soundwave's command unnecessary as the spy bird felt their link activating, calling him into service. The large blue square mech stood in the center of the room, silver battle mask engaged as his chest slide opened. The nearly bare silver plated room matching the Decepticon communication officer's reserved personality, the contents on the lab table neatly arranged to match his love of order.

A squarish blur of red and black shot out of the slide into the open air. No sounds of transform audible as the red and black cassette warrior snapped out his wings, his head rotating up into position. A spy, transform noises would betray him faster than his sonic scream.

:: You called o great one?:: Laserbeak teased, turning precisely on wingtip to return and perch on the outstretched arm with his talons.

"Unknown transmission. Track frequency," he ordered, knowing the condor size bird would complete any mission assigned, even one of seemingly no importance. A stubby blue finger pointed at the sole lab console, the encrypted pattern fragment caught for an astro second across the screen. Hopping down, one clawed footpad extended before transmorphing into a two prong interlink as Laserbeak wove his consciousness into the base's systems.

::Tracking. Unknown signal origin, probable Cybertron:: Laserbeak sent over their link. Capable of talking, he hid behind the illusion of silence. But a clueless enemy was still an enemy and small framed, any advantage could save him in a group that used violence and power to get ahead.

::Track destination. Confirm Lockdown personal comm signal:: Soundwave ordered, his systems linked into the hidden cameras and alarms around the lab to protect them both.

::That mech? So ugly rust ain't going to touch him:: Laserbeak retorted before comparing two patterns side by side on the screen. The unknown inbound signal and Lockdowns. They were identical.

:: Confirmed. Must inform Lord Megatron. Return:: Soundwave intoned, his vocal emotionless as ever as a rare smile formed behind his battle mask. Laserbeak hesitated, wanting to crack the security on the transmitted message to read it then obeyed. Whatever it was, he would find out later. Soundwave would tell him and based on the emotions flowing through their link, it would be good. Good for them at least.

**DECEPTICON BASE**

**COMMAND CENTER**

**ONE HOUR LATER**

"Look what the parts grabber found," Thundercracker began, unable to keep the gloating smile off his faceplates. The larger purple jet sent a silent message announcing Lockdown's arrival. Standing nearby, Skywarp snickered, his wings shifting up and down in a pattern only another seeker would recognize as 'prey sighted.' The Decepticon Second In Command tilted his wings in answer from across the room, 'trap set.' Lockdown ignored them, stalking into the command center, his optics and stance relaxing seeing only the three seekers.

"I'd give you a hand with these consoles," Skywarp began. "But you'd lose it. Again. I bet Ratchet is about to send a thank you for providing spare parts! Though he has to repaint from your ugly color," He chuckled, waving both of his attached armored hands.

"How about I rip your pathetic wings off and see what Ratchet sends then," he retorted, waving the metal hook replacing his one hand. Battle systems moved off standby, no external warnings alerting the others. Three seekers would be a challenge but nothing the assassin couldn't handle, especially in the confined space of the control room. They couldn't fly or transform, he could. Deliberately, he stepped forward, shifting his dark green plate armor to spin a tire.

"I'd rather a Autobot than you! They wouldn't make messes! How many times do I have to have to tell you that," Starscream's screech of protest went ignored as the assassin stalked towards the center monitors, dropping another clod of dirt onto the floor from his simulated tires.

"Slag off. Megatron ordered me here," Lockdown snapped.

"That I did," Megatron's svelte vocal surprised them all as the room doors slid shut behind him. No bot moved as he marched to his throne size command chair and sat on it, his silver armor gleaning against the pale silver metal of the chair. "Report."

"Soundwave is outbound to the satellite again. Grumbled about flipping between a planet alt mode and his space one before leaving most the cassettes here. They are patrolling outside," Starscream answered first.

"Autobots are split between the island base and the group at the humans central city. Broadcast signal hacked and ready," Thundercracker answered next.

"That city is their national capitol as in Washington D.C. not central city," Lockdown corrected, his optics narrowing with the barest irritation. The silver spikes of his blackened armor clashing against the graceful smooth lines of the seekers as he posed arrogantly.

"What difference does that make?" Thundercracker grunted, keying the overlay image of the White House into standby.

"It matters to them. Humans are weak and don't deserve to live. They choose emotional attachments over battle necessities, denying logic to hide behind words and empty gestures by their leaders. A flaw our race once held. Lockdown, do you know why I chose a small weapon for my alt mode?" Megatron's abrupt switch of conversation catching only one of them by surprise.

Lockdown paused, unsure of how to answer. Was it a test or a clue to the reason he had be ordered to report the moment he returned to the base? Nervously, he shifted his feet pads, dropping more clods of dirt before smearing them around. "That is not information I have."

"The reason is Municipal Prime's words. It was our first open attack on the fuel reserves in Praxus. The day the Decepticons began to claim what was rightfully ours. We fought to a standstill," Megatron said.

"Your strength unable to overcome the Prime's enhanced abilities?" Lockdown guessed.

"Winning that fight was never my plan. Even the stolen fuel cells was negligent to the real reason. My forces routed his troops, taking more sparks in that one action than his Elite Guard had lost in the orns previous. A crushing defeat to their superiority. And a reminder defiance would cost them. But not in his report to the Grand Senate. Do you know what Municipal Prime said?"

"No," Lockdown listened intently, fascinated at hearing what few online bots knew. The beginning of the war hidden in mystery and legend and the Decepticon leader himself telling the tale too good to miss.

"We successfully routed a small force with minor weaponry,' he said. 'The sparks lost a result of structural collapse of the building and exploding fuel reserves."

"He lied? Some Prime he was," Lockdown snickered, missing the way the seekers positioned themselves on the far side of the room, away from him and Megatron.

"A small force! Minor weaponry!" Megatron ground out the words between clenched jaw gears, his vocalizer adding venomous hate to the tone. "I chose an alt mode of a weapon, folding myself down into subspace so I could be carried in our next attack."

"You blasted Municipal Prime? I heard they caught that mech."

"Of course I blasted him. Took more hits than any other to fall," Megatron growled, fists clenching around the solid arms of his chair. "The old fool! Never realized I was his undoing until too late. They hunted the mech carrying me, not knowing it was a worthless soldier drone even in its destruction. No spark, no processor mind of its own but a slave to my commands. But the Prime did." The red optics narrowed as images from the past replayed across them.

"I transformed as Municipal Prime lay dying, his Matrix crumbling into ashes as I revealed my true face. The fear in his blue optics I can see even now, before they dimmed out forever. The same fear I will see in your red optics. Did you process I wouldn't find out what you did?" Megatron growled, his red optics narrowing as his arm cannon rose into firing position.

"Find out?" Lockdown had only time to repeat the question before the first blast slammed into his legs. His scream of pain and anger adding to Megatron's soaring emotions.

"You dare accept a contract on me? ME! The leader of the Decepticons?" Megatron roared, snapping to his feet as the second blast threw the downed assassin across the floor. His impact bent the console, sparks flying as the monitors went black.

"I...took..no contract."

"Liar! Soundwave showed me your betrayal. The credits transferred, the request for a piece of my cannon as proof!" slamming his foot pad on the other's chest plates, Megatron pinned the other's wreckage down. "You have outlived your usefulness to our cause."

"I..swear...loyalty..." Lockdown's gasp turning into static as his optics flickered.

"You are not worthy of offlining. Starscream! Take care of this trash," Megatron ordered, removing his footpad off him and walking away. The deadly glow at the end of his ion cannon fading as he walked out the control room doors.

"With pleasure,' the jet answered before pointing Lockdown's smoldering form. "He wanted to know about your teleportation abilities. I'd say a demonstration is in order."

"I...still...function," energon ran from the charred metal, mixing with the dirt on the floor.

"Not for long. Drop in on the Autobots and deliver this to..." Starscream began.

"Prime?" Skywarp grinned.

"No, Ironhide. I understand they have unfinished business," Starscream ordered before his optics dialed down, adjusting for their flash of teleportation.

_To be continued..._


	35. Chapter 35 Impact and four words

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Yes, Arcee and Bumblebee's revenge prank will be detailed but not this chapter. Onward to how the simplest of things can go wrong. Like uploading this chapter and wiping out all my numbers.

TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TRANSFORMERS

_281. Do not make the mistake of technology replacing processing. An error made with sophisticated upgrades is still an error. Humans may claim they 'forgot' but our mistakes are either a lack of knowledge or carelessness. Both are fatal on the battlefield._

**DIEGO GARCIA ISLAND**

**HUMAN ADMINISTRATIVE OFFICES**

Master Sergeant Epps, battle proven NEST team member and friend of the highest living tech on the planet, glanced down at his iPod, selecting a different song with his left hand as his right keyed the fax machine. He knew better than to let himself be distracted on or off the battlefield but felt more in the mood for a harder beat song. The iPod dumped back into shirt pocket, he watched the paper grabbed into the fax machine, dumping out into the basket as the rock beat began through his ear buds. "Confirmed signal transmission,' printed across the fax screen. "Uh oh."

"Uh oh? What do you mean uh oh ? What did you do now?" Will asked, almost afraid of the answer. He recognized the look on his friend's face, having seen it in Egypt and Mission City when they were in trouble. Deep run us over alien Transformer size trouble.

"The new Pentagon fax is speed dial 138. I pressed 183. Suppose to be confirming the new number is programmed properly. See?" he held up the NEST cover fax page, a smiley face with the standard smile and two dots for eyes inside a large circle drawn on the bottom half with the message, _'please reply when you get this,'_ _Master Sergeant Epps."_

"And?"

"And it's part of the new budget cost cutting measures. Fax, scan or e-mail documents instead of mailing or shipping them. No hijacking their phone signals like breaking an encrypted e-mail or a lost package, safer for secrets. But they keep changing numbers as the Pentagon shifts staff around. Not my fault they can't keep one number or location," the officer grumbled, glaring at the fax machine.

"What's the issue? It's a smiley face, not classified battle plans. Whoever it is will probably just ignore it," Will shook his head, the silver hairs beginning to outnumber the dark. Reaching for his coffee cup, his fingers closed around the cup's handle as the fax machine began spitting out multiple received pages, a few with Cybertronian glyphs or English phrases, others altering the smiley face or adding to it. "Are you kidding? You sent it to them?"

"What glitch adds the Transformers to speed dial?" Epps grumbled.

"_Transmission received. Thank you for the encouragement human style, Prime_," Will read before beginning a pile of received pages. "_I cannot ascertain an official reason for this transmission. Please review the three accom__panying pages of related rules for official communiqués, Prowl._" Four pages joined the first. The next one Will held up without saying a word, the detailed sketch facing Epps.

"Anatomically correct human, smile included, obviously Ratchet's. I am never going to live this down," the black officer moaned.

"You won't, I'm enjoying this. Stick figure smiley face with a "_slag me"_sign attached, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Next one, blast hole obscuring where the picture was, Ironhide. Bullets all around the smiley like a frame is?"

"Moonracer. Femme probably printed it, shot it then scanned it back in as a demonstration of her absolute precision," Epps said.

"She is their best sharpshooter. And this one?" Will held up a page with a smiley face printed underneath '_With Sam_,' and a drawn unhappy face '_without Sam_.'

"Bumblebee. That one has to be Override. What is with the femmes? Print and destroy then scan back?" Epps pointed at the page with black mark tire tracks rolling over it.

"Ironhide destroyed his and he is no femme. This is First Aid's. Same smiley but the added body below wrapped in bandages on a medical berth. He actually draws pretty well," Will chuckled.

The rest of the faxes matched to a Transformer until the last one. The smiley face turned into a stick figure with two larger stick figures alongside and a rough drawing of GMC top kick pickup next to a smaller sports car. The two vehicles each had a door open, touching the edges as though holding hands. _'My family_' printed below them. "That's Annabelle's writing," her dad identified.

"Why is she on the fax system?"

"Technically the Transformers receive data to their systems directly. She must have her datapad linked to their frequency. Like texting high tech."

"What is her security clearance again?" Epps asked, feeding the other printed pages through the nearby shredder. The last thing he needed was a human auditor seeing them.

"Level 2 IC 1 OP 0 LA," Will replied, folding Annabelle's sketch several times before sliding it into his uniform pants pocket.

"What level is that?"

"Two Ironhide cannons with one Optimus Prime signing off on it and zero liaison arguments to change it."

"Nice. Think I can get that level of clearance?"

"Not a chance. I don't even have that," Will smiled as sounds of explosions rumbled outside from the tarmac.

"Twins?"

"Check the schedule," Will sipped his coffee. "Bumblebee and Arcee prank time. Wheeljack and the twins are scheduled for weapons practice at 3:00 pm then med bay at 3:15 pm. It's," he glanced at his watch. "2:48. Plenty of time to finish my cup before the first damage reports come in."

_282. Do not believe simpler is better. The lack of directions in situations may create more harm than good for both our races._

"Humans are the only race we have encountered where quantity outdoes quality. The more words, the more pages to their documents increase their perceived importance. I am statistically surprised they ever realized our level of technology enough to steal it from Megatron's frozen form. Expected them to still be in budget discussions over the attempt to build the dam to hide him," the black and white armored Autobot processed. His optics roved over his desk, the confiscating boxes filled to overflowing to the piles of human paperwork to Optimus three datapads waiting for him. 'Problems he needs my assistance on. At this rate, I will need an assistant. The weekly reports are overdue. Send a reminder to the others."

"_Your post battle summation is due in one earth hour. Please respond with the status and limit your response to four words."_

Prowl smiled, imagining the answers to be 'Yes, it's ready' or 'finished' to 'in progress.' The smile disappeared as the responses flooded back, many anonymous and unsigned. All exactly four words long.

_1. Last time was better._

_2. Where is my armor?_

_3. You said blast him. *Moonracer_

_4. Slaggest is a word._

_5. Next time, no humans._

_6. So the mechs fault. *Arcee_

_7. Can we blame femmes? *Bumblebee_

_8. They won't find it._

_9. More explosives next time. *Chromia_

_10. We did what? Where?_

_11. Helping out their budget._

_12. That didn't work well._

_13. I lost the instructions._

_14. Same time next year?_

_15. Told you not to._

_16. Seemed okay in planning._

_17. Who told? I didn't._

_18. Other side looks worse._

_19. Getting the soldiers hamburgers._

_20. This was for real?_

_21. Don't believe the media_

_22. I love my job! *Ironhide_

_23. Let's blame the liaison._

_24. I was just saying._

_25. Oops, really my bad._

_26. I ain't no scout._

_27. I overstrained a cable._

_28. Medic not parts grabber. *Ratchet_

_29. That prank was best._

_30. How long until retirement?_

_31. Why am I Prime?_

_32. All energon flows downhill._

_33. Humans move too slowly._

_34. The mini bot tripped._

_35. My chronometer stopped working._

_36. There were no roads. *Sunstreaker_

_37. Speed limit was wrong. *Sideswipe_

_38. Runway was too short. *Air Raid_

_39. This wasn't a drill?_

_40. Do I have to?_

_41. My e-bay bid ended._

_42. Make me the Prime_

_43. What were you processing?_

_44. Four words long only?_

_45. Bluestreak unable to reply._

_46. Cybertron too far away. *Mirage_

_47. Earth is too muddy._

_48. Can we stay forever?_

_49. Hide from the press!_

_50. Lawyers are so annoying._

_51. Sam really needed me._

_52. Out for energon refueling_

_53. Taking care of sparklings._

_54. We are not younglings._

_55. Wash racks were empty_

_56. Whose processing was this?_

_57. Megatron never does learn._

_58. My alt mode jammed._

_59. I was too tall. *Ultra Magnus_

_60. I was too short. *Cliffjumper_

"Next time, I am going to limit their response to a yes or no answer. Two choices, how hard could that be?" The second in command officer muttered, adding a processor note for the wording on his next rule to be long. Very long. In addition, written down at least ten times before handing back as proof they each read it.

**STORY ARC**

**TIME FOR A CHANGE (CONCLUSION PT 2)**

**DECEPTICON BASE**

**CONTROL ROOM**

"Thundercracker, clean this up," Starscream pointed down at the spilled energon, mud and assorted blasted parts littering the floor. Hs silver armor feet pads mirrored the reflected colors like day glow sneakers.

"Why me?"

"Megatron ordered me to remove the trash not mop the floor. As second of the Decepticon forces, it is my job to see orders are carried out. And I have a transmission signal to delete and Lockdown's things to throw out of his room. We need that storage space back. I'm tired of Rumble complaining about going two levels down to refill the energon dispenser," Starscream stated.

"Why can't we use cleaner bots?" The other seeker grimaced, recognizing his tone meant no arguing.

"Because you and Skywarp used them as targets before trying to blast Ravage and Rumble the last time you had high grade. Soundwave refused to make any more if we would not appreciate his work and payback for threatening his scouts. Now get to work! And when Skywarp returns, he can help."

**BOLLING AIR FORCE BASE**

**6 MILES SOUTH OF WASHINGTON, DC**

Optimus knew he would remember the moment. Not for the spark extinguished, or the chain of events it created but the look on the faces surrounding him, Autobot and human alike. It should not have surprised the Autobots to the degree that it did, he mused later. They had seen Skywarp teleport in and out before though none of them could have guessed what he carried. The human soldiers understandably did not recognize a Decepticon seeker and while no planes stationed at that particular air force base, all types of craft did come and go on government missions, including the Chiefs Own 11th wing.

Standing among his troops, Optimus battle systems engaged automatically as the Decepticon energy signature exploded across their arrays. The first flash of light barely fading as the purple seeker climbed for air, disappearing with another flash. The black and green mass falling rapidly was another matter. The Prime's blazing blue optics locked onto it. Its energy signature undetectable on their arrays, even as the owner struggled for life. Calculations barely had time to confirm surviving impact was impossible before the dimming red optics went dark forever.

"We're under attack!" Agent Dave yelled first to his credit, reacting faster than the other humans. The Transformers were already aware and in motion as the words left his mouth. Bumblebee crouched over Sam as Arcee grabbed for Annabelle to use their metal bodies as protective shields at the same time Lockdown's blasted chassis slammed into the ground. Energy rippled, expanding to explode upward like a metal oil gusher blowing out.

"What is that?" Dave gassed, his head thrown back as the metal stream reached nearly a hundred feet into the air before cresting into a tidal wave shape.

Ironhide's super processor speed created twenty-eight smart answer comebacks even as his protocols dove him forward, hands wrapping around the human security team. Their human hands were barely touching their holsters when his armor surrounded them as the metal tsunami hit. The noise of metal on metal raised an enormous racket, pounding down to their interior struts. Humans screamed, the Transformers locking onto each other's energy signatures as the wave went on and on. Objects bounced off Ironhide and the others without damage before it slowed then stopped.

The instant Ironhide heaved up, chucking debris off the human agent stood to assess the area. "What type of weapon was that? And can we have the specs for it?" Dave asked, brushing the dirt off his front. He tried looking over his shoulder for oil or grease marks then remembered they were not cars with those fluids, despite appearances.

"Not a weapon. Not one I have ever heard or seen," Optimus corrected, unable to identify even half of the debris. Too many parts he recognized as Transformer gears, armor or internal components. Ratchet reached, grabbing pieces to dump into his subspace storage, alternately swearing and thanking Primus as he dug himself free. They always needed repair parts or the components to make them.

Hound helped Arcee and Annabelle break free as Prowl and Mirage removed debris from around Bumblebee and Sam. The first out of the building right before the attack, they were the closest to the metal debris wave when it hit. "Nice hat there," Hound teased, his green armored hands removing a metal helm shape not unlike Megatron's armor from her head.

"Ugh, who wore that last?" Arcee pretended to sniff the air, her sensors able to take a sample without the motion.

:: Decepticreep number five odor. Must have been a core pounder:: Bumblebee teased, shaking his footpad to try and dislodge a large spiral gear wedged around it.

"Confirm no injuries Prime. Lockdown is offline. His chassis is two hundred fourteen point six feet in that direction, in a crater recessed fifteen point five nine feet in the ground," Prowl stated, his optics intent on his own kind and the humans.

"This is worse than your room Bee," Sam joked, looking around. The entire area layered like a junk yard that had been a clean tarmac moments before.

"Can I keep some? It's pretty and weird and next week is show and tell at school," Annabelle rushed out, hesitating when Arcee's hand blocked hers from grabbing. The large pink metal fingers nearly equaled the little girl's height creating an unmovable wall.

"Let us sort these first sparkling. Wouldn't want you grabbing a mini rocket by mistake," Arcee warned. The scouts exchanged a wordless message not to let her or any other human grab before they examined them all. What could be used would, the rest identified and the sparks lost honored or cursed before melted into baseline materials.

"Okay. But can I help? Ratchet and Wheeljack can tell me what's okay to move," she smiled. Arcee glanced over at Wheeljack, waiting for his answer. She processed he knew better than to risk the humans but one look confirmed the worse. The civilian scientist was lost in his creative processing.

"Lockdown's subspace pullers failed on impact, releasing the fields. I've heard of it in theory but wow!" Wheeljack's sidebars flashed colors like an exploding rainbow trying to calculate the release effect, the why and how to recreate it. Subspace disasters still plagued their race, the field release almost statistically impossible.

"This is his stuff? One Decepticon carried all this?" Dave realized, missing Sam stiffening and twitching. Blinking rapidly, the young man turned and huddled against Bumblebees leg, the glyphs flashing across his vision overwhelming and unknown. Jazz and Arcee moved to shield him with their bodies as Optimus hurried over, his footpads crushing parts underneath.

"No," Chromia vented, feeling her spark pounding. The blue femme stiffened as a silver red shape shined in the light nestled amongst the debris and broken parts. A jagged part she processed never to lay optics on again. "It can't be. It was lost when my parental mech offlined." Super speed she compared the tilting shard to her memory file, confirming the shape. Intent on reaching it, the humans cringed as she stepped dangerously close over them, wading into the debris, moving pieces without regard to where they landed. The human security team retreated, even Hound yelping when a thrown wing plate slammed into his leg armor.

"Mia! Stop!" Ironhide's yell snapped their attention to her even as the warrior femme froze mid reach. "Cluster bomb on your left. And it's active."

_To be continued..._


	36. Chapter 36 Mini cubes and mini bots

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. This is the longest I have gone without a post and I apologize for that. My life has been crazy insane lately. Over the last couple of months, I have moved to a different area and got a new job. Instead of early morning and day, I start work in the evening and get home about 1 am. Nothing like applying for a job, changing hours, finding a new house, then packing and unpacking to find everything to zap your creative writing energy.

Worse, some of my clothes, story notes and things have gotten lost. We know they made it into a box out of the last house but not sure where they are now. Including my master list of all the rules in numerical order, hence the guess on the numbers for these rules. Never fear, I still have plot bunnies and creative writing ideas. Lots and lots of plot bunnies. I just lacked the time and energy and "in what boxes is all my writing stuff?" to continue until now. Onward to seeing the truth beyond our perceptions of reality.

TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF

_412. Do not let physical weaknesses of the human race influence our perception of their mental ability. _

He alternated between freezing and blazing heat to peer through the dim window at the light in a dreamlike state. The loose fitting clothes barely covered him, providing little protection against the temperature changes. How long had he been a prisoner? It seemed a few days but Will Lennox couldn't be sure. Shifting yet again, his body racked with pain as he coughed.

"Ribs hurt, chest is tight, slag. What happened? Thought I had it," he mumbled, shifting on the rough surface again. The cramped area prevented him from standing and only by lying down could he stretch out fully. His stomach rumbled, wanting more and queasy at the same time. He licked his lips, trying not to think of the last meal. 'What type of meat was that?' he wondered, unable to identify it by taste. His mind shied away from his helplessness, forced to eat whatever was set before him, using only his hands.

Eyes opened again to look up through the glass, the stars shining brightly above. He gazed on them, grateful for their light in his darkness. "SERE," he quoted. "Survival, evasion, resistance and escape." Survival described the state he was in now. Evasion? There had been no chance from what hunted him. He knew the futility of it but still tried. Resistant, he had fought until the last second, literally dragged and thrown in on his face. Escape? Not possible. Designed for containment, nothing on his person at the time of capture could have broken through the metal walls surround him. Even the glass could have taken a mortar hit and not shattered, how useless his bare hands were.

A twin flash of light across the night sky answered his prayers. The human peered up, his emotions rising. 'Was it Optimus? Had rescue finally come?' A metal face peered through the glass and he bit back a gasp. The torturer had arrived. The door to his prison opened even as he tried to curl in on himself. "No, leave me alone. Torment someone else," he begged, too achy and tired to resist. Strong metal hands lifted him up, pulling him out into the cool night air.

Ratchet grumbled, scanning Will's entire body as he tenderly cradled the man in both his metal hands. "Ironhide! What the slag were you processing?" His optics never left his patient to glare at the vehicle parked at his feet.

"He was sick. I promised Annabelle to take care of him. Kept trying to do too much and got worse. Left me no choice." The black GMC Top kick vehicle rocked on his axles, transforming up into the Autobot weapons specialist. Fully in his bi pedal mode, he crossed both arms defiantly, the war cannons tilted outward. Turning to the side, he let the breeze swirl through his parts to clear out the smell of sickness.

"By locking him in your alt mode for three days? That is cruel even for you," he said. Cooling jets in his hands activated, blowing air across the man's flushed skin.

"I kept Will warm and fed. I got him double cheeseburgers and even waited for pizza the last time. Too sick to get out himself. He has his favorite pillow and is safer in me than anywhere else on this mud ball world," the weapons specialist grumbled.

"Fast food take outs are not nutrition for a sick man! I entrust him into your care and you do this!" the medic ranted.

"There ain't a cure for this condition and antibiotics don't work. This disease kills humans and we need him." Both mechs focused on the man as he stirred, uncurling to latch weakly onto one of the medic's armored fingers. "Rest easy Major. You have the flu and should be over the worst of it. You need rest and plenty of fluids. I am taking you back to medical bay and no arguments this time. You need professional care," Ratchet stated. He had barely made three steps when the man threw up everywhere across his armored palm.

"He never did that in me. That will need professional cleaning. Night medic," Ironhide teased, throwing an informal salute and heading for his quarters and a femme sparkmate who hadn't been in his arms for three earth days. She'd appreciate being held and hand fed.

#_413. Earth designations should reflect our maturity, battle experience and wisdom. They cannot contain inappropriate references, improper language including swearwords or in any way mock any part of earth's inhabitants or their beliefs._

Arcee giggled, liking the sound of it playing through her vocal speakers. Any mech accusing the femme of softness got her rifle in his faceplates but she had to admit, the softer sound of feminine giggling fit. The only sound she liked better was Optimus deep rich chuckle, it made her want to swoon at his feet pads but would never happen. She did have a warrior side after all and Elita was his sparkmate, not her.

"You cannot choose that as your designation." The pink and white femme tried looking serious at the taller mech, newly arrived to earth. He chatted at her in Cybertronian. "Fine, but Ultra Magnus is your old commander and his word goes. Just because Prime lets us pick what we want doesn't mean you get to keep that name. After this, you will report to our Medical Officer Ratchet for a systems check then Prowl for duty assignments. And welcome, Leadfoot. Please continue our conversation in English unless it requires a need for privacy or stealth," Arcee ordered.

The red armored mech nodded, already adapting to human customs from the data uploads. His bristling weaponry everywhere might pose a problem for his transform but he would adjust. All the Autobots stationed on earth did or were sent packing back to Cybertron or a moon base by Prime himself. Leadfoot watched the human soldiers moving around the base airfield for a moment. "These beings seem simple. Are they capable of multi tasking?"

"Screaming and diving for cover mostly; swearing at other drivers while driving or talking while eating. The rest of what they can do fluctuates per individual's skill. Med bay is this direction." They passed several groups of soldiers busy with their duties until going out and around a group unloading supply trucks.

"We have to get this in order or all will be lost," the Sergeant exclaimed, gesturing at the pallets unloaded in random order.

:: Can we help? What does 'all' look like? What rank? Mech or femme?:: Leadfoot sent to Arcee over their internal comm frequency.

:: All is a term and not a person. Lost as in defeated not missing. Humans tend to be general in their meanings. They can lose their minds but not as often as they say it. It indicates they are feeling stressed or overwhelmed. That is not to be confused with lost all his marbles, losing it referring to mating activities, lost it all in Vegas or get lost. And switch to English please:: Arcee answered, sending brief data clips of each situation.

"That sounds confusing. Why not ask them to be precise?" He glanced down at her, expertly stepping between the orange traffic cones without needing to see them physically.

"They're hard headed," Ratchet's vocal answered first, the medic standing next to Ironhide as they worked on the communications array on top of the building. Feet pads on the cement, they merely reached up to the rooftop to balance the heavy metal shape. Several humans ran the cables as the mechs swiveled the silver dish relay into place.

"Is there such a thing as soft headed?" Leadfoot asked.

"Yup. Brain turns to mush from too much TV," Ironhide grunted. He didn't mind the human's TV but the musical cartoons Annabelle had watched and watched as a toddler still made his processors want to smoke.

"I disagree," the nearest soldier stated. " I watch TV all the time when not on duty." He smiled, taking a step forward and hooking his boot on the cable. Arms flailing, he fell forward, his weight pulling the cable out of the nearest holding clamps. Across the roof, the other soldiers yelled as the cable in their clamps pulled taunt.

:: Case in point:: Ironhide commented on their internal comm.

An hour later, Arcee rolled to a stop by Bumblebee, transforming up to sit on the cement sea wall next to him. The sound of the pounding ocean waves and the scout's bright, cherry attitude always made her feel better. "How did I get picked as the welcome to earth designator?" She grumbled.

:: Because Ratchet and Ironhide would scare them and they are too awed of Prime to listen to what he says?:: Bumblebee teased back, handing her a small cube of fresh energon. The yellow armored scout spend more time at the NEST base than with Sam during the college semester. Hiding in his alt mode in a parking lot on campus provided good human watching but got lonely as the days stretched into weeks and months.

"I doubt that is the reason I get stuck with it," she answered, pausing to see a human wearing a business suit talking earnestly to Ironhide. Too far or even her alien hearing to listen in, Arcee tried identifying the man and failed. The human dropped his large white box of papers on the edge of Ironhide's feet pad, gesturing for the box to be lifted up.

::New safety officer. Wants to make changes. He is upset he had to wait while Ironhide finished installing the new satellite array:: Bumblebee guessed her question.

"If it concerns safety, shouldn't he be talking to Red Alert or Prowl then?"

:: Weapons safety:: Bumblebee corrected. They both snapped their optics upward as a burning ball arched over their helms to slam into the ocean waves.

"Didn't Prowl have a rule about blasting human's paperwork?" Arcee asked, draining her energon cube then sub-spacing the empty container to prevent littering.

:: Blasting yes, not setting on fire. No using holograms to fool human drivers, no sugar to Annabelle and no reports limited to four words or three:: Bumblebee corrected then stopped as an idea formed in his processors. An evil mastermind chuckle sound played through his speakers, getting her instant attention.

"And what?" The femme prompted as he remained silent.

::Precisely:: He quipped back, sharing the idea. The next morning found them ready to go. Both waited by the main Autobot hangar, the last shipping crate opened and the contents waiting in the early morning sun.

::Phase one complete. Time to lay the trap:: Bumblebee sent before switching frequencies. Routing through the new communications array, he hid his alien signature, appearing as a base communication. "Prowl sir? Your shipment has arrived and is unpacked per your orders," a human man's voice stated.

"Shipment? I am unaware of any order," Prowl's crisp vocal sounded back. Arcee grinned overhearing it. She could imagine the black and white armored bot sitting in his office, a faint look of puzzlement on his faceplates as he searched all the shipping manifests. They had deliberately labeled this one as 'other items as required,' to keep the contents hidden.

Bumblebee continued in the human's voice. "I understand you had a busy morning sir but it is blocking the main door. Transfer to storage can occur the moment you confirm delivery."

"En route now," Prowl answered back as Bumblebee gave Arcee a human gesture of thumbs up.

"Phase two," she winked an optic before linking into the Autobot command frequency and changing her vocal. "SIC Prowl to twins, please meet me at the main Autobot Hangar for an assignment."

Ten minutes later Prowl knelt by the bookcases, trying to imagine why anyone would send him three wood crates of outdated reference books. His HUD flashed a signal, indicating a transmission marked high priority had arrived. "From the twins? Their latest post battle summation?" Prowl vented, debating whether to open the file after running it through every known virus program or simply ignore it. His sense of duty won out. It was possible they had updated previous report or more likely, been involved in an incident. Which meant they chose not to inform him until after the fact, and before the news broadcast at noon.

"_In case you ever want our post battle summation reports in two words or one word, we saved you the effort of asking first. Nice of us hmm? Sideswipe the magnificent swordsman and Sunstreaker, the most magnificent alt mode on earth._

___Two words_

_a. This vorn?_

_b. Try online._

_c. Go away._

_d. Being framed._

_e. Uh oh._

_f. Oh pit._

_g. Not even._

_h. Really? Wow._

_i. But why?_

_j. Who? Me?_

_k. You're funny._

_l. Imagine that._

_m. Friday party_

_n. Femmes hot._

_o. Mechs rule._

_p. Come on!_

_q. No slag._

_r. Recharging late._

_s. Break time._

_t. Lab blew._

_u. Too early._

_v. Blasted it._

_w. Why not?_

_x. As if._

_y. Got it_

_z. Dropped it._

_aa. Good idea_

_ab. Bad idea_

_ac. Ask Prowl_

_ad. That's you?_

_ae. Never mind._

_af. Twins prank._

_One word:_

_a. All?_

_b. Epic._

_c. Please_

_d. Yes_

_e. No_

_f. Maybe_

_g. Perhaps_

_h. Depends_

_i. Really?_

_j. Interesting._

_k. And?_

_l. So?_

_m. But..._

_n. Rules_

_o. Lunchtime_

_p. Hah!_

_q. What?_

_r. Helpful?_

_p.s. We are gifting you these books to help find more words in your spare time. _

The next building over, Major Lennox and Sergeant Epps completed their review of the new system, finishing off the necessary checklists. Both spun as voices erupted into shouting and heavy thumping sounds echoed. Transformers ran by, making them dive for cover more out of instinct than need as their large feet pads pounded dangerously close.

"Why is Prowl chasing the twins carrying a bookcase full of books under his arm?" Lennox asked, watching as the black and white mech reached with his free hand, grabbing books to throw with precision. Yellow and red helms rang with the metal hits.

"I'll one and two word you! Troublemakers! Brig inhabitants! Spare time? Spent chasing you slaggers!" Prowl's normal vocal ragged as more books went flying. Standing up, Epps brushed off his pants as Will picked up one of the tomes off the ground, flipping through it.

"Encyclopedias?" Will held the thick book out for the other man to see.

"I've heard of taking someone to school but this is ridiculous," Epps stated before glancing at his watch. "Hey. Commissary opened ten minutes ago. Cheese enchiladas and chips with salsa for lunch. Hungry?"

"Starving. Missed breakfast for a cross national conference call. Prime can comm me there if he needs me," Will shrugged, tucking the book back under his arm to read later. The page on moon landings by NASA seemed interesting.

Back at the main hanger, sounds of mechanical laughter could be heard. Arcee leaned against Bumblebee for support, replaying the exact astro second the twins had asked Prowl what was with all the books. They both laughed until a massive shadow covered them both. Going still while struggling for control, they looked up into the glowing blue optics of Optimus Prime.

"May I inquire why you find piles of books so enchanting?" The ancient mech looked at the upended crates before tracking the recent energy signatures. Neither answered him, both tucking their helms down and looking anywhere but at him. "Ah, I understand."

"You do?" Arcee recovered first, sharing a look with Bumblebee.

"While I believe in continued learning; wasting learning materials in pranks is not wise. However," he straightened full height, towering over them both. "Later." He strode away, leaving them awe struck.

"Did Prime just two and one word us?"Arcee puzzled.

::How much do you think he knows?:: Bumblebee wondered.

**STORY ARC**

**TIME FOR A CHANGE (CONCLUSION PT 3)**

Chromia's optics never left the shard piece as it balanced on the debris pile, tracking every vector it could possible fall. The dark blue armored warrior femme had seen cluster bombs in action. They took any object around them, pulling it inward into a spiral before spinning spinning them back out with dangerous velocities. The key disguised as a piece of metal was too valuable to risk moving and triggering the bomb.

"Prime," Ironhide said his name, their hardened battle experience time together needing no other words.

"Targeted, on the plates," Optimus said. A smooth grab behind his back and his ion rifle dropped into his hand, the safeties disengaging upon contact with his armored palm. ""One...two...three...four..."

Each number had the Autobots reacting. Bumblebee and Arcee shifting to protect Sam and Annabelle as Wheeljack brought up his shoulder launcher. Ratchet crouched, fingers morphing to energon line sealers as the others armed their weapons.

"Five...six...seven!" Prime finished, his rifle blasting the device and surrounding parts into oblivion. Chromia sprung forward, catching the shifting shard to hold it to her chest plates.

"Seven? What the #$^&$ happened to ten?" Agent Dave shouted, straightening out of his crouch.

"Why ten? Seven is the number for everything you do man," Jazz quipped, his circular arm shield retracting back into subspace.

"Count your fingers and toes!" The agent said, missing Ironhide hugging Chromia.

"Still right. One, two, three, four," Jazz grinned, flexing his four clawed prongs on each hand before pointing at his feet pads. "Five," left back brace, "Six," right back brace then pointed at the oblong main front part of his footpad. "Seven and me. Get with it man."

"He's right. As humans," Sam began explaining, grateful for the need to focus on anything but the surrounding parts and glyphs flashing across his vision. "We base everything on ten. Ten fingers, ten toes and count to ten. Cybertron bases on seven and one. I know, you are going to ask why that does not equal eight. And the answer is it doesn't. Everything is plus one with them for the individual. Even the Allspark."

"Their metal cube? It had six sides. Four around with a top and bottom makes six. How does that equal seven plus one?" he challenged. In fifteen minutes he had to report to the President on their status while he would need days to explain the last half hour let alone understand it.

"True, as we humans think. Except the power and knowledge inside it existed in subspace meaning a seventh part and the one holding it. Seven and one. Anything that exists is held or seen by another for recognition. It's a historical, alien thing," Sam stated, as though giving the time of day off his wristwatch.

"Historical will be my job if I don't make this call. If you will excuse me, I need a secure phone and aspirin. Lots and lots of aspirin." Dave muttered, threading his way towards the nearest building.

"Who puts bad stuff in with parts?" Annabelle asked, keeping close to Arcee.

"A bad mech who takes parts in the first place," the pink and white femme commented back.

"It's not all parts taken from victims," Ratchet said, opening his fist to show half a dozen colorful round shaped rocks. They warmed in the sunlight to sparkle in different colors.

"Nebula swamp gems," Jazz identified, adding a whistling sound.

"Lockdown must have posed as a trader. Hid everything in massive subspace fields from circuit chips to these. The spikes on his armor weren't for weapons use, they were signal prongs to maintain the subspace fields. This debris are items to trade as an excuse to move around and gather information. Odd credits here and there to hide his actions," Wheeljack theorized, his side head bars still flashing nearly nova with the array of colors.

"Posed as a trader myself at the beginning of the war to hide my scouting," Hound admitted. He continued holographically scanning the area, the quickest way to inventory it.

"I still don't understand. Why would Megatron offline him?" Sam asked.

"When you starve with a tiger, the tiger starves last," Will quoted.

"Might even consider thanking Starscream for delivering that piece of slag," Ironhide rumbled, his optics shuttering at their startled looks. "He's a coward. Wouldn't stay long enough to hear it."

"Hmm," Jazz smiled. "Cannon blast, parts fall off, high pitched scream, more cannon blasts, seeker crashes hard, parts everywhere and Ironhide saying 'thanks.' I've heard and seen it all."

"Not yet," Agent Dave interrupted, his return noted on their sensors but otherwise ignored. The human gestured for all of them to listen. "Everything is ready. Secret Service is in place and the roads cleared. Let's hope this goes as planned."

"It is our hope that revealing our existence will increase those we call friends. Autobots, transform and roll for the White House," Optimus commanded.

Two hours later Elita waited, hiding in her alt mode among human vehicles near the Lincoln Memorial. She had scanned the words engraved at the statue's base and appreciated the universal idea of freedom expressed therein. ::I wish Optimus could see this:: Elita sent.

::In time he may. Humans may be short lived but they take a slag time to reach a decision. We will be back often for meetings. Take the grand tour then:: Ratchet

::Speaking of which, we need to roll. Optimus called. The awards presentation is done. Fallback to the warehouse on the east side to regroup then return to the base and the mess:: Elita

::That's another thing:: he complained. ::How many large open warehouses do they need?::

::We use them:: Elita reminded.

::For what? Half a joor? Waste space the rest of time. Especially their ceiling heights. Their tallest human is shorter than a mini bot and they build for our size? Do they realize how much energy is wasted lighting and heating those spaces?:: Ratchet continued the now familiar discussion.

Elita regulated the conversation to a lower holding queue, confirming Arcee and Bumblebee status. Both answered back they were staying to guard Sam and Will and would rendezvous later. She understood, they were having fun and didn't want to leave. The traffic moved around Elita and for a second she felt homesickness swell in her spark. The noise of conversations, the hum of powerful engines and activity in the sunlight reminded her of Iacon before the war. Belatedly she realized Ratchet had stopped talking. A quick access of the lower holding queue let her know he had finished his ranting and they were turning off to the warehouse. Inside the deserted building, he shifted to his bi pedal mode, reviewing Hound's cataloging.

Transforming up, she stretched her arms over her helm, reaching and still a ways from touching the arched roof. "All we need is an energon candy store and I'd be happy."

"I'll take one less surprise. Dropping Decepticons and chatty Autobots," he grimaced.

"Chatty? Ah, Ultra Magnus. Least he can't claim Arcee's creation was the Matrix like Optimus. Might do him good to remember a femme is more than a trusted soldier on the battlefield." Silence met her comment as Ratchet faced away from her, his energy signature fluctuating briefly. "Ratchet, tell me the truth," Elita's calm vocal held the steel of command.

Ratchet answered with his own strength. "As Chief Medical Officer, I will not be questioned Femme Commander on an issue that is between you and your sparkmate. Ask him."

"My sparkmate trusts too easily. He believes what others tell him, seeing the lies too late. He trusts you Ratchet."

"And you don't?" his head turned to allow him to look over his shoulder plate at her.

"I do. I also know there was an untold incident between the medical board and yourself at Iacon. Afterwards, none of them were ever allowed near Prime again for medical treatment except to assist you. What don't I know?"

Ratchet vented deeply, the secret weighing on his processors in that moment as heavy the astro second he had discovered it. "The procedure was done without consulting me. They sent me half the planet away to assist with the last evacuees of Praxus because the Conductor knew I would never have allowed it. Bumblebee was not made with the Matrix and Optimus spark."

"What! A femme..." Elita's surprise and fury colored her vocal.

"Was never involved."

"Was there..." she began.

"No. Only Optimus and no other. The deception involves the how. The Conductor of the Medical Board lied to us all. I found the truth is his records when closing out his office. Got himself offlined being in the wrong place at the wrong time, dumping a mess on me."

"The truth being?"

The ancient medic vented, wondering how he had morphed into being a Cybertronian historian. "It was not the Matrix that combined and pulled power from Optimus spark but a cube piece of the Allspark. Remember Bumblebee's description of the Allspark compacting itself under the dam?"

"Vaguely," Elita admitted, searching for the file in her memory core even as she wondered at the turn in the conversation.

"On Cybertron there was an incident involving the Allspark cube early in our history. Only the legend of it remains, no physical records showing event itself. When the temple was built, the designers made the grand doorway too small for the cube to fit through. Short of tearing out walls or roof layers, it would never fit in the center vestibule. "

"I know the story. There was a flash of light and the cube magically appeared inside the main chamber, signifying its acceptance of our race. The attendants were knocked senseless for half a joor. When they awoke, it was inside the room without any of them having touched it. The Allspark must have compacted down then expanded back," she realized.

"It's my belief that a portion of the cube's energy was released planet wide during that flash of light. Following that, first femmes began having sparklings on their own. What is not in the legend is that two mini cubes remained on the floor outside the main door once the attending bots regained consciousness. Both cube pieces passed into the hands of the medical board for study. A single touch and their energy could undo the worse damage."

"Why hide that?" Elita asked.

"Shame and the fear of losing our image as the one profession any bot could trust. Instead of using the cubes to heal they became a science project. Did you never wonder how our race discovered transforming? The complete rotating sequence of our physical form? It was an experiment gone wrong that the first mini cube healed. Intrigued, the Medical Board used it to create a battalion of transforming fighters until they depleted the mini cube's energy. I believe their misuse of its power created flaws in those sparks it touched. The mechs experimented on became the first flying transformers who became the first Decepticon seekers."

"Optimus told me of the drones the humans created in their experiments. And the creations in Mission City when the boy dropped the cube. I processed those were side effects from Megatron's one attempt to alter and control the cube to breed an army," Elita theorized.

"We may never know. Sam may contain the cube's knowledge in his form but I am not asking him. Any attempts to access the stored information could overload him further," Ratchet warned.

"What happened to the second cube?"

"Held in reserve for the Prime and world leaders should they fall in battle. The reasoning was it could revive them when our medical skills could not. And yes, the Conductor and Medical Board members were on the 'to be healed' first list."

"Optimus would never have allowed that had he known. He would have demanded its use on others badly injured irregardless of their rank or position," Elita said, knowing in her spark what her mate would have chosen. "Is that how they knew to create Bumblebee with the cube fragment? The experiments to create seekers?"

"Not exactly. They were fully formed sparks in final shells. They attempted to use the Allspark energy to wrap around an existing spark to bud into a separate spark, able to exist and mature on its own. Dangerous but not untried." Ratchet's optics narrowed as he glanced over to the side, his faceplates showing a mixture of shame and uneasiness for a astro second. Recognizable to any bot who had known him for a length of time.

"Wait! They tested it before Optimus didn't they. What happened?" Elita realized.

"Sentinel Prime tested it. Wanted to create the next Prime after an assassination attempt. He lived, the mech he had been training as the new Prime didn't. The experiment worked but the sparkling lacked the spark strength to be more than a mini bot. That mechling proved battle capable and strong of spark to fight as he aged but incapable of overcoming his own emotions to lead. They tried controlling him and resulted in making him paranoid and borderline hateful. The more they forced the worse the damage to his processors," Ratchet vented deeply.

"That gave them the right to try again with my sparkmate?"

"Sentinel Prime's expedition left Cybertron to never be heard from again. The Allspark sent away though a hole in space to remove it beyond the Decepticons reach. Our forces driven back to the last stronghold as our numbers dwindled. You led the femmes in raids while we saw the vorns of war beginning to take its toll on Optimus. When he began to lose hope, the Conductor of the Medical Board made a decision. He feared Prime failing and decided to replace him."

"They used him. Took his trust and betrayed it for an experiment that had already failed!" Elita snapped, irritated that those responsible were beyond her reach in a time long past.

"The procedure helped heal his degrading spark," Ratchet corrected. "By creating a sparkling who brought us all hope and joy. The cube fragment could barely power a room light let alone create another spark. During its transport to the Victor Sigma vault it was lost in a surprise attack. Good riddance I say."

"That's why the Allspark compacted under the dam. It sensed and knew Bumblebee," Elita commented, running the information over in her processors.

"He was a success. Unlike the trigger happy first attempt who is still a pain in the aft and incapable of leading. Lands in my med bay all the time with injuries from shoot now and consider why later," the medic grumped.

"Is Ironhide?" Elita guessed.

"He's too old to be the descendant of Sentinel Prime. Think of Optimus' result. A bot with great courage and strong spark but small. Nearly the duplicate of Bumblebee but temperamental. No matter how he disobeys orders or attacks he never gets thrown in the brig or removed from a field team."

"No slagging way," her optics spun wide as the pieces fell together.

"Yes. Cliffjumper."

_To be continued..._

_Author's notes: When researching TF 3 it occurred to me the Matrix restored Optimus in the Bay movie verse but never created anything. Same in most of the other series, comics and G1 cartoon included. Only the Allspark did. Researching the Allspark showed it could create sparks separate of a mech and femme combo. Seeing the Allspark fold itself down in the first movie gave me the idea for the temple transfer and fragments of power in other forms. A more logical explanation of why Bumblebee and Cliffjumper are near twins physically yet different in personality. Full credit to fellow writer karategal for writing first on how Optimus was Bumblebee's dad in her fics "Sparkling" and "Youngling." She's a wonderful author willing to share ideas. And I do not own transformers, the concepts or trademarks therein. None of us here on fan fiction do. Paramount, Hasbro and whoever else their lawyers have signed into contracts do. We are only borrowing them for fun. Until all are one, Layra. _


	37. Chapter 37 Names, roses and saving

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. No, I have not seen the new TF movie. I live in a small coastal town and it is not on where I can go until next week. I did order the toys online including Sentinel Prime (before I knew he was the bad bot) and the Ark spaceship. Put them on the same shelf as my Matrix of Leadership and Allspark cube replica. Yes, I am a TF geek. I will be writing a fic on the DOTM events and expanding upon them then moving forward. Should have the first chapter up later this month for my DOTM series. While trying to keep my regulars ones posting too. And some of my writing stuff is still missing.

In this series, never fear, all of your favorite characters are alive and blasting as ever. In addition, the lighter, funnier side of two species existing on one planet including a flashback to Ironhide first dealing with Sarah Lennox. The phobias are based on Greek word roots in the tradition of naming them. Credit to fellow writer SapphireBee for her use of PTHD and its definition. Onward to thinking you know how to handle a situation.

TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TRANSFORMERS

_291. Do not forget that what is a normal custom for our species may appear strange or lack cultural significance to another. In explaining both sides may learn._

"How did you pick your earth name?" Sam asked, realizing he didn't know. Resting against Bumblebee's armored leg he felt warm and safe after hours of swimming and playing on the lagoon beach. His skin bore the light trace of red from too much sun and a single scrape on his elbow from slipping on the rock jetty; the first getting him teasing about being a inside college bookworm and the second a lecture from Ratchet on infections.

Bright blue optics crinkled down, the shutters engaging as Bumblebee processed the answer. Reclining on the couch like structure, he kept Sam by his side, enjoying their time together away from school.

Ratchet looked over at them, the game controller in his hand forgotten as he sent an internal comm message. ::He needs to rest, not talk::

:: Yes sir. But this is the first time he asked. Is that really your score?:: Bumblebee distracted him.

The main screen blinked, the message warning the level needed repeating again. Swearing softly, the medic hit the reset button on the main controller pad but kept an audio tuned their way. His green and white armored frame hunching forward towards the screen to try again. :: Inferior human control pads. I'm too fast for it::

Bumblebee chuckled internally, wondering if he should tell Ratchet he was missing three upper levels of gold coins as the game character moved across the level then passed. Ratchet would figure it out or one of the others would tell him. He had more important matters to communicate. But with his vocalizer still glitching, he had only texts on Sam's phone to relay the information. No amount of sound clips or movie quotes could convey the feeling of a comet landing or the moment of stillness between the initial impact strike and coming online, fully functional. Words would have to do.

:: When I landed, it was in an unpopulated area to prevent discovery. Unpopulated by machine life as we Cybertronians know. It was a human farm and I plowed right through the middle of the cornfield and up to the back of the farmhouse. Scans revealed no humans. I learned later they were in town on a shopping trip. I didn't know Sector Seven had traced my comet path inbound with satellites and were on their way:: Bumblebee texted across Sam's phone.

The scout's memory core replayed the instant of consciousness, yellow light filtering into his optics. A bright light, almost too intense. Cybertron's skies darkened with weapon's fire and pollution but all the young scout had known. Sitting upright in the narrow trench, Bumblebee blinked as three thin layers of optical filters slid into place, easing the light down to a more recognizable level.

"Thank Primus Jazz showed me the medical override for temporary stasis. I do not want to feel the impact. Wish he'd shown me the codes to override the neuron ache from the online surge though." Gyros activated, stabilizing his protoform, as he stood upright. Blue optics looked down as his square metal feet pads sunk in brown granular soil. Lifting one footpad, he crooned as the particles fell off but not all. "Ewwww. Must have landed in the slag pit." Stepping gingerly, he crossed towards the larger structure, the barn. Music played from the radio on the shelf, forgotten by the farm's owner. The song ended, switching to a commercial about aspirin. The noises played in rapid succession, a baby crying, horns blaring and people yelling sounded from the speakers.

"How do they process with all that noise?" he rubbed his helm, the neuron ache threatening to increase. Then a square shape under the back hayloft caught his attention. Scanning, he waited for confirmation the size would match. Holding his hand out, the metal parts of his lower right arm split apart to shine the blue trans scan light across the old Camaro. Systems engaged, changing his own armor and body parts until two faded yellow black striped Camaro cars sat on their wheels. His engine roared to life, rolling him forward and out into the sunlight. Power systems blinked a warning. 'Need to rest then explore. Linking into the World Wide Web to download more of their language components. My lower processors can defrag the language while I recharge,' he realized, setting perimeter defenses. One movement and he would wake, battle systems engaging to blast the intruder.

Recharge lasted longer than he anticipated. The steady beeping of his defense warning alarm bringing him awake. Transforming, part by part slowly rotated, spun or twisted into shape as his bi pedal mode formed.

_Unknown entities, not recognized. Insecticons? Negative. Micro drones? Negative. Classification: Organic_

His optics focused on the stack of white boxes nearby and the myriad of small flying shapes moving in and out of them. B U M B L E B E E F A R M S H O N E Y printed bright across each box. Codes formed; transferring the letters into glyhps he understood and could relate concepts to.

"Bumblebee Farms Honey. These tiny creatures create a gel favorable to human tastes from...ewww. The bees spit up the ingested flower nectar? Honey is from their stomachs?" He tapped his forehead plate with his armored palm, as though jarring a loose part back into place. "I have to have that wrong. Slagging language makes no sense. Need to defrag more of it next recharge."

The buzzing increased as the tiny yellow black creatures swarmed out into the morning light, their flight a wonder to his sensors. Tiny and non-metal their existence baffled him. "Their wings are reverse rotor blades motion to achieve flight. The buzzing sound is not their wings but a band of tissue under the wings. It vibrates and creates the sound."

Researching them across the human's internet, he became even more intrigued. "Social creatures, normally not aggressive but will sting in defense or if attacked. They are necessary for the continuation of plant life on earth, small and important. I like it. My earth designation will be Bumblebee."

In the recreation room at Diego Garcia, texted sentences spelled out his memories for Sam to read. The lack of facial plates prevented him from displaying the smile he felt. ::We choose names based on what we like or have them given to us. Choosing designations is important in our culture and show our attempt to exist in your world::

"Arcee isn't a human word," Sam realized, yawning and shifting to ease tired muscles. The faint hum of the systems under him reminded him of his mother singing a lullaby, an indistinct melody without words yet comforting. His eyelids drooped further down as his breathing slowed.

:: She was a science teacher on Cybertron before the war and had a different name:: Bumblebee never moved, content to let Sam fall asleep against him. The recreation room was safe and the couch like structure was certainly more comfortable than the many nights traveling in space or on the metal ruins of Cybertron during scout missions.

"Were you one...of her students?" The yawn midway distorting the words.

:: _She blinded me with science_!:: Bumblebee played a crowd laughing sound after the song clip, shaking his helm. :: No, the schools on Cybertron were gone by the time I sparked. Arcee helped Optimus in the science division then adapted her skills when the war spread. She is a gunner and excellent sharpshooter. Chromia is a power hitter and Moonracer deadly precision but Arcee can train others to shoot by teaching the science of movement. She helped me once Ironhide installed my first ion cannon. He was happy the first times I blasted anything. She taught me to lower the blast power and hit a small object or multiple hits than always destroying the whole room::

"Is Arcee... Cybertronian?" Muffled, the words were clear to them even as Sam rested his head against his own sunburned arm, eyes closed.

"No, we all have our designations and clan numbers engraved on our spark spire base," Ratchet picked up the conversation, moving to stand by them. The crushed game controller sat on the floor, the bent plastic demonstrating the medic's hand strength. "During a field trip to an archeological site, the air transport crashed and she survived but barely. Unstable and in full stasis the first medics did not dare bring her remaining memory core or power couplers online. Her clan number is RC-687040, the only way they could identify her. Except she never updated the clan records once achieving a third shell and choosing an adult designation. There were no listings of living kin, where she moved to or where she worked. On a world of billions, finding out who she was would take time and they were more concerned with stabilizing her spark. Being a military craft, the pilot never filed the flight path, probably intending to keep it a secret. He offlined as did the rest of the shuttle crew. There were only two survivors and the other bot never recovered before offlining. Though you would process as a scientist she would know the importance of accurate record keeping," Ratchet explained, talking to Bumblebee as Sam slept.

::How did they find out who she was then? Wait until she was repaired?:: Bumblebee sent over their internal comm. One look at the crushed game controller reminded him any attempt to talk with his damaged vocalizer and Ratchet's wrath would descend.

"No. Her clan sisters went looking for her when she failed to appear at a party later that orn. The crash happened so quickly and half the planet away that they didn't realize the lack of contact. Even then, they nearly missed her in the critical ward. Only her upper shell survived the crash and that is how she became a split spark. She kept the name RC changing it to Arcee. She believed Primus had a plan for her life in sparing her and the name change reflected that survival."

:: She never told me that:: Bumblebee admitted, knowing a lot about the femme.

"Not surprising. Was a lifetime ago. And Primus willing, you will live long enough to tell your grand bots the story of how you chose your name," Ratchet answered.

_293. Do not rely on science alone to explain the world around you. An infinite universe cannot be explained by finite processors and as living beings, we are not locked into any one time or space._

Will Lennox, now Colonel Lennox sighed, the walls of his office reflecting back the sound to mix with the steady tick tock of his wall clock. "I wanted this promotion. More power, more responsibility but seriously." His head rose, blue eyes seeing only the psychological request awaiting him. "What makes them think I can sign off on this? NEST needs another safety manual chapter for being around the Transformers like I need another government liaison meddling. Let's see what they came up with. Page one, new disorder addition."

_PTHD (Post Traumatic Hologram Disorder) For a full description see below:_

_Symptoms Include: Patient will expect everything they come across to be a hologram or visual simulation. This can range from everyday items to people and machinery. They have unfortunately, an over dramatic fear of everything in this world. Not to be confused with Vicisvitaphobia._

Will thought then added his initials to the page. "Okay, point made. That has become an issue over time. Page two, a list of phobias? What, fear of brain spiders or some other nonsense?" He began reading through the list.

_Newly recognized phobias:_

_1. Agicursomniphobia - Fear of __being stepped on or trampled by a larger being._

_2. Brevdictfractbluephobia – Fear of being cornered by Bluestreak. Alternatively, enduring a long lecture on responsibility from Prime or Prowl or another command officer._

_3. Chromhomotensphobia – Fear of being th__e same color as human skin doesn't change when surrounded by multi color paint changing Transformers._

_4. Duramortphobia – Fear of being short lived._

_5. Fibrowavephobia – Fear of tentacles and intrusion._

_6. Superacumedimandphobia - Fear of advanced alien technology used on your body. Alternatively, enduring another of Ratchet's medical exams when you injured yourself through stupidity or bad timing on the battlefield._

_7. Impaconpathy - Fear of impacting comets._

_8. Victalossphobia – Fear of the Decepticons winning._

_9. Vicisvitaphobia - Fear of driving or operating machinery that turns out to be a Transformer._

_10. Volcanizaphobia - Being caught in Wheeljack's lab explosions, in Ironhide's weapons fire or other alien weaponry._

_11. Zillabestgotchaphobia - Fear of being caught in one of the twin's pranks. Like this one, have a good orn._

"Are they serious? Fine. Then I'll sign off on these and get to the real work," the officer grumbled, not really reading the exact wording of the last phobia. Tossing the request into the wood box labeled 'outgoing,' he grabbed the next file, slinging it through the air in front of him. Sketches fell out of the folder, scattering across the desk.

He picked up the first, recognizing the scene from Annabelle's storybooks. "Winnie the Pooh. Sam as Christopher Robin, Bumblebee as Pooh with the black stripes and honey pot, too perfect." Then the human burst out laughing as he realized the blue donkey had a red colored flame pattern across his hips. "I'm okay I guess, been better." Will mimicked in Prime's vocal as Eyore. The sketch slid back into the file, as his other hand picked up the next.

"Shhh, I'm hunting rabbit," he quoted, not sure whether to be flattered or insulted. His own likeness stared back as Elmer Fudd complete with a tan hunting flap hat and saggy round body shape holding an energon scanner. Starscream stood behind the sketched in trees, his normal faceplates distorted to a long black duck bill and webfeet below his seeker wings. Megaton stood alongside, his helm points raised into long rabbit ears, fluff tail and round feet added.

"Admiring Sarah's handiwork?" The booming deep voice startled Will, his eyes snapping up to look into Ironhide's deep blue ones. Staring down through the skylight, the ancient mech smirked, the motion distorting the scar over his eye plate as his shadow darkened the room. "Keeping ya active. What if I'd been a 'Con sneaking up?"

"I'd be filling out paperwork to repair the collateral damage you caused blowing them away," Will retorted, feeling the thudding of his heart easing. He grinned back, knowing the other's alien technology read his bio signs so why try to hide anything.

"Ain't doing my job otherwise," Ironhide grunted, straightening back up, the shadow disappearing.

"Sarah and I are grateful for that. Even when you make messes in her gardens."

"Rodents make messes, I leave reminders," Ironhide stated before moving around the building to meet Will at the human sized door. His spark warmed at the thought of Sarah, liking the human femme from their first encounter even as they tried working out cross species differences. His memory core flashed back to the first week after the attack at Mission City.

OPENING MEMORY FILE: 8281972

LOCATION: LENNOX DOMICILE, USA, EARTH

He vented deeply, testing the surrounding air as though sniffing. The family farm left Ironhide unsure of his surroundings. The larger human cities reminded him of Cybertron and the military bases of his own command but this? Dirt, plants, and non-warriors? He barely remembered dealing with non-combatants let alone a human femme and her sparkling daughter. Nevertheless, Will had been insistent. Part of the time would be at the farm with his family to get Sarah's approval. Personally, the mech processed it as a waste of time. The Decepticons would blast the planet if they could and retaliation on these weak fleshy humans a possibility. He had guarded a Prime for Primus sake and never lost him yet. Who was this femme to make him prove his abilities? "Maybe Ratchet is right. Humans are born naked, wet and hungry. Things go to pit from there. Been on the planet less than a orn and demoted to guarding nowheresville. Oh goodie," he grumbled.

The early morning sun cast shadows his thermal discerned through down to the smallest blade of grass. Pheasants exploded upward from the cornfield, energy trackers confirming normal flight and not enemy movement through the plowed rows. A single green and brown feather floated down before disappearing in laser flash. Then the mech stood still, laser sight retracting, systems online and active as he guarded. Air composition data began scrolling across his visuals as weapons returned to standby.

_78.09% nitrogen, 20.95% oxygen, 0.93% argon, 0.039% carbon dioxide, and small amounts of other gases. Water vapor approx__imately 1% with micro gametophytes of seed plants common identifying reference as seeds and microbiological spores._

The sound of human humming reached his audios, turning him towards the farmhouse to watch the femme descend the front stairs.

_Sarah __Lennox, non-threat. Capabilities: Unknown. Protection: Priority_

Ironhide's system automatically categorizing even as the smile formed on his lip plates. Unlike the soldiers who ran up and down the stairs or even fell down them, Sarah used the handrail to descend carefully. "A spill, a slip, a med bay trip," flowed across his processors. Protocols activated, approving of her cautious nature while filtering potential hazards on the property to his charges.

The human femme wore a red and yellow sundress, leaving her arms and legs bare. Her wicker sun hat and wooden flip-flop sandals completed her outdoor summer clothing. Her hands gracefully picked up a wood basket off of the deck, cutting shears, a hand spade and other gardening tools resting inside it.

"Your outer surface lacks adequate protection," he began, deliberately lowering his booming voice while staying where he was. A larger mech, he knew his size made him intimidating.

"Humans don't wear armor Ironhide, you know that. No amount of asking, begging or pleading will change that," she smiled up at the weapon's specialist, deciding the friendly approach would work best. "Not for me and especially not for Annabelle."

"I meant protection for dermal damage due to exposure of solar rays," he corrected. Armor would have been better but early discussions with Will had gotten him nowhere. The humans dressed as they chose on the battlefield and off. But he was long lived and patient. In time the human race would adapt to Cybertron standards. Or those under his care. They always did. Ask Prime. Look how may weapons he had installed, these humans would be no different.

"Don't worry. I'm not out here that long. Trimming, watering the grass and flower beds," she explained, kneeling by the first row of plants, snipping at the roses.

"Why are you cutting the plants? Are they a hazard? I can remove them quicker," his war cannons spun once as he smirked. Once she saw him in action, she would trust him more and he could return to the new base.

"No, I'm harvesting the roses only. See?" She pointed at the massive multi petal red and pink flowers. "Beautiful aren't they? Enough for a whole bouquet in the house."

"Does cutting not damage them?"

"They will wilt eventually but I add a mix to the water and they'll last at least a week," as another handful of the flowers joined the first in the basket.

"You grow them to sever them? Then display the remains on your table for beauty?" He asked, his deeper tone baring the smallest hesitation. This species was strange.

"Roses are to be displayed. Doesn't Cybertron have gardens? Growing things to bring inside for your home?"

"Nothing on Cybertron is similiar. Gardens there are sculptures and areas for couples to meet or play without walls around but no flowers to cut, as it is a metal world. To trim or remove we use the target ranges or the fighting arenas. Are they like a trophy?"

"Can be," she smiled. "Four years ago my pink English Shepfield Rose won the blue ribbon at the county fair. Finally beat out old lady Peterson and her Red Downsville Beauty. A little time, the right seeds and a ton of fertilizer and I won that battle."

"As Autobots we too take pride in our accomplishments but do not take trophies from our battles. Our medical staff treats a wounded enemy but an offlined Decepticon is another matter. Better their parts than ours when few slagging pieces match. Not that I haven't ripped apart a few shells. Prime would have quite a collection of face plates and fried spark chambers. Are you fully functional?" He focused on her, lightly running a medical scan.

Sarah breathed rapidly, a noticeable pale color to her face. "No talking of battles please. I get upset enough with Will in NEST without the reminder," she swallowed.

"But he is a warrior. What else would he do but battle and risk his life?"

"Be a husband and father. I knew what I was getting into being a military wife but it doesn't make it any easier. Though you being there relives some of my fears. You will protect him?" Her plea more a soft command.

"With all my spark. Same as you and your sparkling," he affirmed, more protective protocols forming in his processor. She nodded, her vital signs changing yet again. Rising to her feet, he watched as she spun a handle on the wall before spreading out a small green hose. It resembled the hose attachments of his world but in miniature. He frowned in distaste as water began flowing out of it.

"Watering the lawn, to keep it green," she offered, careful to keep it spraying the other direction. Will had reassured her Ironhide would not rust in the rain and even had crashed into a swimming pool but she had also heard about him bellowing when Mojo had peed on his foot. No use risking offending him or making him step backwards and knock a tree over accidentially.

"Why is it important to apply water?" He finally asked, unable to come up with any reasonable answer that made sense.

She pointed to a small sign at the edge of the driveway. _"Lawn sprinklers save your grass."_

"Is the grass sentient or of high value?"

"No, just a plant though sometimes it seems to have a mind of its own when it grows between the flagstone steps and not where it's suppose to. I put that sign there to remind Will to quit driving over the hose ends. Annabelle loves to crawl around outside now that she is learning to walk and scratchy dead grass is a no no."

He considered it but didn't truly understand. The sparkling needed room, that he understood from having raised other bots. But outside? In the air without armor or weaponry? He repressed a shudder at the damage that could occur, making a mental note to monitor the grass to ensure it remained safe for them. "Are you going to slice and remove parts for display inside?" There again, he could demonstrate his control using a micro thin energon blade. Cut most of the area in one fell swoop with micro precision.

"No, grass stays outside. Except when Annabelle and Will track it in or Will plays football with Epps or the others then it's everywhere," she muttered, shutting the water off and coiling the hose back by the house.

"Why do you save it then when you offline and eat animals that are far more intelligent and useful?"

"Uhm, it's a human thing. Ask Will to explain it. I'm going back inside," she stated, knowing Annabelle would wake soon and want breakfast. And be the perfect excuse to avoid talking to the big black armored alien standing in her driveway.

"Your core body temperature is raised and your facial complexion flushed," he noted, updating medical logs. "Prolonged sun exposure is apparently detrimental."

Will and his team arrived later they evening, reassuring Ironhide that Sarah would come around. 'Whatever that means,' Ironhide processed. 'Species has no transform or rotating parts. What would come around?' He monitored the couple in the backyard, keeping as many sensors trained on the toddler in her crib at the same time. Sarah and Will's voices began rising, enveloping more of his protocols. He listened as Will explained the flight into Mission City with the Allspark cube and the battle.

"Ironhide saved my life. They all did and Jazz died trying to protect us. I'm home because of them. They have nowhere else to go," Will emphasized.

"Will they stay here at the farm?"

"Probably. I don't know Sarah. But we owe them. The least I can do is trust them."

"I will try," she promised, hugging her husband. That night she celebrated her husband's return, not realizing Ironhide could hear and see the two of them in the bedroom. Ironhide couldn't shut off his sensors without risking a sneak attack though he moved as far away from the house as he dared. Will realized it later during the drive back to the military base for their airlift to Diego Garcia but avoided the subject all together. Ironhide never mentioned it, having seen and heard far worse from his own species over his long life. He was more concerned over the present he had left for her.

That morning, Sarah paused by the edge of the driveway, noting the little sign had a smaller board nailed to it. Bending down, she read the neatly printed English letters.

_Lawn sprinklers save your grass, Ironhide saves your aft. _

Laughing, she shook her head side to side. "Okay, this round goes to you big guy for helping Will. But if you ever mess up, I will deal with you myself."

_To be continued..._


	38. Chapter 38 Memory and clocks

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. The temperature clock as mentioned in the rules below does exist and can be ordered online, though not the Autobot version. Thanks to fellow writer _ladyofdarkstar_ for her boot suggestion. A new story arc will be starting soon, still working out the details. For now, a general catch up. Onward to one second changing the rest of the day.

TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TRANSFORMERS

_283. Do not keep a secret with the intention of fooling a fellow Transformer. Our mutual trust is as needed as our energon. It must be pure, readily accessible and shared. _

The sun crested the horizon, shining brightly as it began a new day over the military base at Diego Garcia. The pounding of the sea mixed with the cries of the seagulls, broken only by the heavy metal treads of a sole mech crossing the outer runway. The steady pace of his footsteps never varied, each step precise and identical. Enough to move him forward without wasted motion yet light enough to leave no damage to the asphalt surface underneath his feet pads. Black and white, his armor polished to a high shine reflected the changing colors of the sky above. His acute hearing detected soldiers assembling on the far field for their morning exercise as well as the distant rumbling engine sounds of his brethren rolling in from night patrol. The Autobot Second In Command straightened to his full height, vents pulling in the tropical breeze as his morning task list began scrolling past his optics.

_Review 5 confidentiality statements from the Judge Advocate General's Corps _

_Conference call with the Office of the Secretary of Defense regarding personnel files _

_Review with Prime last mission reports _

_Review with Ironhide, major twins and Arcee mission parameters for upcoming patrols_

His system pinged, announcing a revision to the confidentiality statements had arrived, exactly nineteen pages long, causing him to vent in exasperation. "I cannot ascertain the logic behind denying our existence. How long can the military keep our presence here a secret? What will it take? Destruction city size for them to admit we exist and work together?" Digitally, he reviewed the records before sending them back with his suggestions even as he surfed the early morning news casts, three favorite conspiracy blogs and read forty two e-mails arriving into his in box while his statistical calculator finished.

_68% chance of interference to daily schedule_

_45% chance of tasking a fellow Autobot with either time in the brig, med bay or clean up detail._

A frown formed on his lip plates then faded away. He had survived far worse odds in battles, today would be no different. Then his blue optics narrowed as a familiar white with green armored figure moved alongside the nearest barracks. "No, not moving but sneaking," Prowl's optics narrowed further. Past experience taught him the low crouch, the armored hands cupped around a small specimen container and the peering around the corner before moving forward meant trouble. Stealth had never been one of his strengths, or common sense.

"Wheeljack!" Prowl called out, repressing a smile as the civilian inventor jerked around. It was that small moment, when the mech or femme knew they were caught, that Prowl enjoyed. His job might be thankless, never ending and complicated enough only he or Prime could handle but this? Like sweetener in the morning energon. Energy spent preventing a problem far more enjoyable that repairing the damage afterward. His optics narrowed in on the fragile glass vial carried in the scientist's hands, the small amount of fluid barely even visible. "May I have an explanation of why you are not in recharge? You have spent approximately nineteen point three four joors working in your lab and should be resting."

"Not to be rude but I need my lab before this substance dries. It has a remarkably small existence in the open air but incredible powers. Today was my first chance to obtain it," Wheeljack explained, the flashing colors of his sidebars a mix of happiness and excitement. He edged two steps away towards the direction of his lab while fidgeting.

"Powers?" Prowl frowned. Anything powerful in Wheeljack's hands was like handing Ironhide a new planet buster weapon. Reports were sure to follow, after the destruction stopped.

_79% chance of interference to daily schedule_

"This substance can smooth unruly human hair, calm a frightened child when applied with the external features, ignite the spark of arousal in a mate or even dissolve a substance that would otherwise be staining," the scientist cradled the vial gently.

"What is it?"

"Mommy spit. Sarah Lennox agreed to donate an amount for my research."

"'Wheeljack," Prowl began then stopped.

"Yes?"

"Remember to send me your test results," he finished, trying not to grin. Laughter in the face of serious scientific research was unbecoming a higher rank officer and would only hurt Wheeljack's feelings. He watched the civilian scientist hustling towards his lab and made a processor note to follow up later. And remind Sarah Lennox of the rules regarding Autobots and no experimentation on or around humans.

_Task 847. Confirm warning signs outside lab doors are current and in all twenty seven major languages and or glyphs. _

Prowl dismissed the message, changing the glyph reminder trigger from 'Wheeljack' and 'experiment' into a forwarding note for Red Alert to follow up on. "That mech gets easily sidetracked and warning notices are more his specialty than mine." Walking away, he heard the slamming open of the lab doors followed by a surprised shout and war cannon on lining. '_Ironhide'_ his systems identified, categorizing the sounds as non emergency, non critical and no need for him to investigate.

"Have you seen my neural atomizer spectrometer?" Wheeljack asked, the vial carefully lowered onto the center of his lab table. The only clear space with ongoing projects and their accompanying notes and datapads piled across the rest of the long metal surface.

"I put it away after using it. Shouldn't leave small tools like that laying about. Get sucked into an air vent," Ironhide answered, his attention on the micro laser sealing the outer edge of his right cannon grip.

"Where did you put it?" Wheeljack practically begged, the vial seal intact yet the substance inside thinning.

"Slag, I don't know Jack. First available cupboard space," Ironhide answered. Wheeljack vented, his optics not even trying to scan the entire wall of cabinets.

"I need to analyze this sample from Sarah before it evaporates," he stressed, hoping to jar the other's memory banks. Threatening would only get his own chassis dented and there were no more weapon upgrades to bribe the other mech with. At least not yet and Ironhide would want details he didn't have time to ponder. Then he turned and stared at Wheeljack. 'Does he remember? Yes, he understands,' Wheeljack processed.

"Sarah? My Sarah? I don't remember approving any lab request," Ironhide's vocal deepened dangerously, the minor repair forgotten.

Outside, Prowl continued his morning rounds, the closing lab doors sealing off the rest of the other's conversation. Either a call to medical would issue across the emergency frequency or he would hear about it later from either mech. Ahead, raised voices speaking Cybertronian had him changing his course, striding towards med bay instead of the main communications hangar. Metal clanging on metal followed by flaring energy of a powerful system. '_Prime_' he identified by the power scale alone, as the second energy signature flared.

_63% chance Ratchet will win this fight_

Rounding the corner of the storage building, both mechs stood before him, facing each other with a single silver wrench laying on the ground.

"Violence is unnecessary!" Optimus rumbled, rubbing at the paint scratch across his helm. The twenty eight foot tall mech tilted his helm towards Prowl, acknowledging him indirectly while continuing to try and hold his own against their chief medical officer. Even though one of Optimus footpad pieces tilted at an unnatural angle.

"Hah! Only thing that gets through that thick plated helm of yours. And blast holes, shrapnel shells, vibro swords and fourteen other weapons I can name from repairs I HAVE DONE ON YOU HERE ON EARTH ALONE!" Ratchet roared. The green and white armored medic was at his worse, arms waving all directions.

"As your Prime...,"Optimus began while Prowl updated calculations.

_89% chance Ratchet will win this fight and add optional medical procedures in retaliation for attempt to use rank as a deterrent_

_100% chance of interference to daily schedule. Scheduling processor on hold pending further data._

"As Prime you keep getting offlined! It is my job," the medic hissed. "To ensure you are functioning after every battle even if I have to drag your Prime aft to med bay myself! What happened?"

"I stumbled. I had an arm full of explosives, and humans weaving around my feet as I tried to walk. One of them fell, knocking down the soldier following him and I misjudged the distance to the doorway while stepping to avoid them. I hit the wall, denting it. Broke my toe struts. The next step I wobbled and bent the flexion bar trying to compensate."

"Trying to not look like a sparkling learning how to walk. That hurts," Ratchet pointed at the odd angle of his footpad. "And worse, you would probably have kept trying to hide it from me if given the chance! Though hiding a limp of this magnitude isn't going to be easy."

_285. "Do not avoid the medic if you need him, regardless of the level of embarrassment you will earn for revealing just how you hurt yourself,_" Prowl noted, adding it to his ever growing list of rules.

"Worse would be the other bots finding out first! Bumblebee would be playing a comforting song, Ironhide would grump about lack of training or armor and Wheeljack would be sketching a prototype power boot," Ratchet continued raving.

"Those might be worse than repair welds," Optimus acknowledged sheepishly.

"If it takes off with a rocket surge or tries to transform, far worse. I can see the call now," Ratchet intoned, venting heavily. "Aerialbots, please save Prime. Something happened to activate the hidden boosters in the boot—again. Roger that. Where is he? By Ironhide's best guess? Somewhere over Australia at the moment. Good luck finding him before the Decepticon seekers do!"

Prowl shook his head. Personally he felt Ratchet tended to over dramatize but on this one point he was in complete agreement. Optimus behaved worse than a sparkling in trying to avoid medical procedures. And anything affecting battle readiness affected his ability to survive. ::Shall I reschedule the budget meeting later today?:: He commed the other privately.

::No. I will take the call in med bay. Might shorten my time in there:: Optimus sent.

::Call me if you need rescuing. I can send Elita in to deal with Ratchet. Odds favor her:: Prowl teased back, calculating _98% probability Prime will stay in med bay until nightfall._

::I heard that. The only thing short around here is the lack of respect for repairs. And don't think you are off the hook either Prowl. You two can confer on budgets later. Then I want to schedule time later this week to realign your wing door hinges. As medic I do monitor all conversations in case you only have one working frequency to call for help:: Ratchet glared at them before pointing towards med bay.

::Understood:: Prowl answered back, rearranging his schedule to accommodate. And added a critical alert for future reference. He had known any Chief Medical Officer could monitor all frequencies, same as Prime or himself, but had not thought of it in time.

_292. Do not reveal our protoforms to the humans. They believe in the right of individuals and modesty. So do we. Or as Ironhide puts it "none of their slagging business what we look like underneath. We don't go asking to see them naked."_

Prowl sat still, updating his digital logs. The quiet of his office broken not even by the movements of his chair, too well maintained to need oil on the wheels. Unlike humans, he didn't need to physically type his reports and only the dimness of his optics showed his concentration.

_Optimus Prime restored to fighting ability, released from medical requirements without restrictions._

"Only took two earth days for a repair that required a fraction of that time," he mumbled, optics brightening as the door to his office slammed open. He knew who slammed it even before physically seeing the mech or identifying his unique pulsing energy signature. Ratchet would have been yelling as the door opened, Ironhide grumbling before slamming the door open with his mate Chromia leaving a hand print in the metal as it opened. This mech did it as part of the game they played over the countless vorns.

"Hey Prowler!" he greeted, hopping the short distance across the office to flop onto the metal chair, both metal feet swinging up to rest against the desk.

"Jazz, feet pads belong on the floor, same as last time," he greeted back.

"Nope. They belong on working gears according to my mech Ratch," he countered, saucy as ever. The spy and saboteur grinned unrepentantly, the copy of the latest medical reports stored in his files.

"Working is what I was doing. And you are here?"

"Depends," he challenged.

"On?"

"How about ya read this list first then my supply request? Nothing like a good back story to uh, fill in the gaps? As it were. Last mission hit a few snags."

Prowl sighed, automatically running it through every known virus code and scrambler program. Jazz he trusted. The places the spy got his data from were another matter let alone how he got the data.

_Orders to never give a human:_

_a. Surprise me._

_b. Just do it._

_c. Get it done, I don't care how._

_d. I trust your judgment._

_e. Show me how humans would solve this problem._

_f. Sure, the press can attend and ride along._

_g. You know what to do._

_h. Go for it._

_I. Bend the rules a little if you need to._

_j. I'm not worried if this takes awhile. _

_k. I won't tell as long as we handle the situation._

_l. Use what you need, we can replace it._

_m. Anything is fixable except a shattered spark_

"Is that an indicator?" He sagged a little in his chair, wondering why he didn't have an assistant to deal with such matters. Then he remembered. As Third In Command Jazz technically was his assistant and next in rank to handle problems.

"I knew ya were a smart one Prowler. And what's with the wall clock temperature thingy? Your gauges on the fritz? I need to call Ratchet?" Jazz's visor sparkled as his advanced spy programs began running. The one thing he loved better than having a good time was knowing everything that was happening on and off base.

"It's Prowl and my gauges are functioning perfectly. The clock is a present from Colonel Lennox," Prowl explained, wondering if he did need a medical visit. His processors seemed to be missing details a lot lately. Trust Jazz to note the new wall device. It had taken the twins four visits to notice he changed the brig wall colors from white to a pale green.

"Present as in 'thank you for saving my aft again' or as in 'you need a good laugh so here take this' type gift?" He quizzed, seeing nothing special about it. Minor level technology at best and redundant to their advanced interlinked systems.

"The second apparently. Only humans would build a device capable of accurately reading the temperature then add a graphic image to display the results instead of hard data." He reached out, raising the temperature of his palm laser in front of it. The figure of a human girl appeared, holding an umbrella and wearing a full-length raincoat. As the temperature rose, her umbrella disappeared to be replaced by a small sun symbol in the corner, complete with shining rays. Then her coat faded away to reveal a three-piece suit. Then her suit jacket disappeared to reveal a tank top.

"Does she keep...?" Jazz sputtered, optics wide as his processors completed the realization.

Prowl nodded wordlessly, watching as her figure became clothed in only a tank top and shorts before they disappeared to a very skimpy bikini. A single line of code shut down his hand laser as he turned to face the other mech. "They are produced in both male and female versions. The male begins in a tuxedo then down to shorts and tank top then a g-string, though the female is apparently popular based on sales ratings. "

"Let me guess," Jazz grinned, his optics flashing behind his battle visor at learning the latest fun. "Wheeljack saw it and made a Cybertron version?"

"No, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker laid optics on it first," Prowl answered, his tone neutral. He could keep secrets too and making the other mech guess was part of their game.

"Which femme? And how far?"

"Arcee in her pink bi pedal mode and her weapon is the first item to disappear. Followed by various pieces of armor all the way down…" He began.

"To her protoform! Those slagging twins! That's disrespectful!" Jazz's vocal deepened with a combination of anger and disgust as he snapped up onto his feet pads.

"Stop! And sit back down," Prowl ordered. "The last armor fades and she transforms to her alt mode. Even they would not reveal a femme protoform, especially a weapons carrying battle capable femme. And any disciplinary action would fall under Elita's and Chromia's command as femme officers."

"Ah, that explains it," Optimus vocal from the door had them turning his direction as he entered the room.

"Explains?" Prowl repeated, one optic arch rising with curiosity.

"As Prime, there are certain requests for information I am privy to," Optimus teased, settling gingerly into the other chair. Wrecked, flattened chairs due to his heavier mass were a common Prime legacy. Even the best Cybertron design fell prey to inferior earth made supplies, as Wheeljack and Ratchet had informed him repeatedly.

"Care to share boss bot?"

"Now Jazz, you are my best spy and I would think such information would be known," Optimus smoothly verbally sidestepped the question.

"I'm your only spy and guardian of your deepest darkest secrets. Like those not even Elita or Ironhide knows about," he retorted.

"Is that attempted blackmail on a superior officer?" Prowl asked, his black and white wing doors rising a little higher.

"I prefer the term 'friendly conversation release' actually," he grinned back.

"Arcee saw her temperature gauge in the human's offices. She found it intriguing and showed it to the other femmes who made their versions." Optimus' metal hand rubbed the side of his antenna spinner.

"Of themselves? Can't imagine them wanting to see humans."

"Of us mechs. Chromia has Ironhide, Moonracer has Ratchet, Override has Sideswipe, Estel has Ultra Magnus then they began trading their images. Now they can select from every Autobot on earth. However, your wing doors lack the full extensions of their width on the image. They are rather short and stubby, same as Bluestreak and Smokescreen," he grinned.

"My wing doors? Who has mine?" Prowl sputtered.

"I'm not telling. Not my position to …." Optimus regally stated, folding one armored leg over the other then stopped as the chair creaked and bent lower under his weight.

"And if they used your image?" Prowl challenged, knowing Jazz would find out first and delight in telling him.

"Flattered. Actually, pleased as I gave them my dimensions to ensure accuracy. All my dimensions," Optimus answered, referring to his energon swords and ion blaster. Prowl twitched before optics narrowed, calculating the exact nature of dimensions. He knew his Second In Command had a playful and creative nature, often suppressed by his battle computer least Prowl's emotions interfere with his calculations. His logic glitch was just that, a glitch and not the core of his personality.

Later that evening Optimus entered the quarters he shared with Elita, ready to enjoy a few hours with his sparkmate. Then he noticed the wall temperature clock. "I better be the only mech on there," he rumbled, the first finger tip flipping open to reveal a laser tip end. At its lowest setting, the air shimmered with the increasing heat as a digital duplicate of himself formed on the small screen. His jaw gears dropped open in shock as his image revealed itself, completely down to the protoform. "Elita!" His startled shout brought her out of the recharge room, weapon in hand.

"What? Are we under attack?"

"That," he pointed to his image. "I'm…I'm…."

"Very well built," she smirked, returning the small blaster to subspace.

"ELITA!"

"OPTIMUS!" She copied his outraged tone exactly. "That is for my optics on our wall, in our private quarters. Nothing I haven't seen countless times as your sparkmate. This device is too high for the sparklings to reach and contains only us. See?" The femme touched it, changing the image to one of her, until the last armor piece faded into her Cybertronian alt mode.

"You're lovelier in person," he crooned, grabbing her close to his chest plates.

::Ratchet to Prime. Prowl is avoiding me. Took a long range mission he says you approved:: Ratchet's frequency blasting over the command channel. Optimus deliberately ran it through his external speakers, letting Elita listen in.

::I did. NASA needed help with...:: Optimus

::He's going to need help when I get my hands on him! Does no bot understand the necessity of maintenance around here?:: Ratchet

:: And?:: Optimus asked, his attention on the femme in his arms.

::What are you going to do? Order him back? Or encourage him in your bad behaviors?:: Ratchet demanded.

::I'm busy. With my femme. Go find some power lines to walk into:: Optimus retorted, closing the comm line. "Now, where were we?"

"About to need the wash racks to cool down," Elita teased, nestling her armor tighter against his.

_**Story arc: **_

_**Interlude**_

"It must be nice, being able to forget when you want to," Sam stated, missing the slight shudder of the car underneath him. Laying on the yellow and black striped hood, he stared at the expanse of lights that was DC at night. The medals he'd received from the President locked in the glove box of Bumblebee's alt mode, the quick rushed ceremony still bitter in his mind. Waiting for Arcee and Elita to rejoin them, the Autobots met at the public park, enjoying the view but hidden in their alt modes. The final decision hidden from them until that afternoon. No public ceremony, no unveiling of their existence only the promise of a new Director and continued funding for NEST operations, except on a global scale.

"The power to lock out a memory or delete the file. Whoa! Bee! What the?" Sam fumbled, nearly falling forwards as Bee abruptly shifted under him, literally dumping Sam onto the cement. Part by part, metal rotated, flipped or realigned to create the scout's bi pedal mode. Warbling, the young Transformer gestured agitatedly, squeaks, clicks and burst of static from his vocalizer. "Slow down, I don't understand," Sam scooted back, not scared but unsure what had triggered the outburst. His tired mind and shifting time zones left him clueless.

"He's upset you would even consider erasure of a file," Ratchet said, parked in the space alongside the agitated yellow Camaro.

"No slagging way I would," Ironhide grumbled, rocking on his truck axles as he remained parked on the other side.

"Bumblebee, resume your alt mode. Sam needs to rest," Optimus softly commanded, parked on the grass. Of all the Autobots, he preferred grass under his chassis or wheels, pointedly ignoring the fact vehicles parked on man made materials, not earth.

Annabelle rested inside his cab, the windows rolled down for air. Yawning, she snuggled deeper into her quilt, the Autobot shapes printed across the front of it. "Why not? I forget stuff. Daddy says people forget stuff that he tells them to do."

"You guys control your own systems. Do what you want," Sam added, sitting back on the transformed Camaro hood.

"You must understand Sam, all we see, feel or experience interweave into our existence. We live thousands of years; the culmination of that time has value even in the smallest moments," Optimus regal baritone reaching both of the humans. The Matrix hummed in his systems, as if agreeing.

"Otherwise we would be machines, programmed to do tasks and not live, not feel or react," Ratchet added.

"What about bad stuff? Can't you make that go away?" Annabelle asked.

"It is more complicated than defining any event or memory file as 'bad.' If we forget any of our kind, what they have sacrificed and suffered, their lives become meaningless. The last pulse of their spark fighting to exist to be with us and instead, we banish them? As though they never existed because of an end that leaves us with pain? Our love, our friendships of so little value we never miss the space the memory chip occupies? No. As Autobots, we honor even offline Decepticons. Not for might or battles waged but as our brothers. Or where is the hope for peace? If we are truly to become one and end this war, it cannot mean the total annihilation of the 'other side.' No world can be built on the ashes of those who came before and expect to thrive," Optimus stated.

"Worse torture ain't inflecting pain," Ironhide grunted. "It's the stripping of our processors or memory cores. Who and what we are. Slagging why force jacking is outlawed."

"So deliberately erasing memories?" Sam asked, remembering their definition on their first meeting. 'We are autonomous beings from the planet Cybertron or Autobots.'

"Erasure is as taboo as self offlining," the medic's alt mode leaned towards Annabelle inside of Prime's cab before choosing his next words, "or forced interfacing. Each a removal of our own choices and denial of the purpose of our existence. We do not erase anything. Override, lockout or overlay with security locks but not removal. Why would we remove who and what we are? Pain or joys make it no less. No certified medic would erase a file. Nor would mates or friends allow it. Erasure is never a consideration for any sane normal functioning bot regardless of the memory coding. Bumblebee suffered torture, Bluestreak watched his entire clan offlined in the fall of Praxis and I have lost more patients than I want to calculate. We may not open those files or relive them but we do not erase them."

"Never thought of it that way," Sam admitted, running a comforting hand down Bumblebee's armor. The few seconds of seeing Bumblebee under Hoover dam, keening in distress had haunted his dreams after Mission city. He couldn't imagine seeing only a functional shell, the life essence of the young scout reduced to automated programming and movements.

"Rest. We will be rolling shortly and have a long journey ahead of us. Now is not the time to continue these discussions," Optimus comforted, reading physical signs of stress in the boy. His own wariness tugged at his spark. Orns spent preparing for the day he could ask humans to be their friends once again an uncertain future. Each mission a risk of their discovery and disapproval of the controlling governments. Cybertron was their home but he had come to like earth, determined to fight to ensure its fate didn't follow the fate of entire generations lost. Settling on his axles as the others guarded, Optimus keyed open his personal log.

_The wisdom of the Matrix has guided me but cannot heal this hurt in my spark. I cannot think of Megatron as only an enemy, as I grew up alongside him. The lip curling in hate I remember curling in a smile handing me my favorite toy as a youngling. The armored hands crushing the life of a fellow Autobot once sealed my energon bottles and held my frame as our adopted parental units watched. Yet I cannot see him as my brother who has lost his way. Megatron chooses his actions with a terrible cunning I cannot match. The day he left to become a warrior in the gladiator pits he surrendered to the darkness inside of each of us. Could the Matrix have saved him? I do not think even it has that power. The Fallen held the Matrix and tried to power a machine that would have wiped out billions of lives. No, the choice of evil is Megatron's. As Prime, I can fight injustice but cannot heal what is no longer there to reach. I only wish I were not alone. As the last known Prime, the burden to end this war falls to me. How I wish I could consult Sentinel or even Municipal Prime. They would know what to do."_

_To be continued..._


	39. Chapter 39 Sam's nightmare Prime's fate

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. And you can blame a lack of sleep and my first true day off from work in weeks for this chapter. I hadn't planned on this theme but it formed itself out as the day went.

Sentinel Prime is based on his hard actions and weapons and the movie verse more than the comics or cartoons. No, I have not seen the movie. Living in a small coastal town is great except when the theater doesn't have the movie to show! DOTM and those events will be their own fic and I can promise 3 things. It will have some humor but more serious than my other works, Ironhide and one or two others will return in a believable, scientific way and it will be EPIC! I just need the time to write it after I see the movie. For now I will bug my friends who have seen it for details needed. Onward to waking up and dealing with the real world.

TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TRANSFORMERS

_301. Do not rely on programmed battle responses to save you in every situation. Your best weapon is your ability to process and respond, not hold a weapon or carry unlimited fight scenarios. Situations exist that you cannot ever expect or calculate. _

_Human version: Anything that can go wrong will at the worse time. Murphy was an optimist. _

_10:15 am_

_Techno Industries, Human Resources Office_

"I will forward your application as soon as you have valid ID," the hiring specialist stated, sliding the plastic card back. His facial expression remained polite as his words without judgment or encouragement. His black hair had lines of gray throughout and wrinkled by his eyes from age but not laughter. Clothes neatly pressed, not a loose string anywhere as a professional should be. The seven page application sat on the desk in front of him, untouched until the cover sheet would be completed.

"Valid? This is my driver's license," Sam hesitated, seeing his picture, far better than his e-bay one. He fidgeted again, tugging on the tight collar of his blue suit coat. A faint squeak sound gave away his fidgeting as he crossed his feet, the highly polished shoes scraping each other.

"It's expired. Get it renewed and come back. If the position is still available," he gestured towards the door, the room full of freshly graduated college students wanting the internship. Hands held or clasped the applications and required identification as Sam walked out, his papers in his hands as though rejected.

_11:10_

_Department of Licensing_

"Number 54," Sam read his help ticket number, taking a seat towards the back of the small building. The others in the room ignored him, surfing on their phones or reading a magazine as they waited. "This shouldn't take too long. No driving test, nothing to do but fill out a form, turn it in and new picture. How long could that take?"

_1:48 pm_

_Department of Licensing_

"Next!"

"Wheelie?" Sam blinked, recognizing the former scrap drone. He stood at the white line, forgetting to look at the red dot above the camera.

Optics wiggling, the small blue mech leaned around the camera to smirk. "If it ain't the glyph kid. Would it have hurt to slagging call?"

"I've been busy, job hunting."

"Me too," he gestured at the plastic badge clipped to his shoulder plating, his name and employee number clearly displayed. "Warrior goddess kicked me out. Energon ain't free. Beats dragging parts for the Decepticons. And this technology is primitive enough I could do it recharging. Say Megatron bait!"

* Flash *

_2:33 pm_

_Techno Industries, Human Resources Office Front Desk_

Sam dutifully handed over the new id, trying not to sigh when the office clerk laughed at his picture to show her co-worker. "Hey Maurice, see this one! It's the kid from the TV few years back. The one the FBI wanted. Now look at his picture!"

_2:48 pm_

_Third and Main_

"Papers complete, one internship in the bag. Then a job. Hopefully. Least I made the deadline. Why is that tow truck backing up to my car? Shouldn't park there. Barely have room to pullout from the curb," he puzzled then gasped as he realized the red flag showed in his parking meter. A shape moved in front of his beat up car and he knew it was a meter maid. "Wait! I was coming right back. See? I have it validated." Fumbling in his pocket for the parking slip with the office stamp, he gasped as the meter maid extended up to her full pink and white armored height. "Arcee?"

"Sam!" The warrior rolled forward, bending at her hip plates to hug him. "What are you doing here?"

"Job. Internship actually. Don't tell me, you work for the city?"

"Needed part time work and I'm a natural," Rolling in a tight circle around him she flipped through the many pages of her ticket book. "I'm their best ticket writer. I can access the database faster than any human and call a tow truck before the owner's moved one mega click."

"Yah. That's my car," he pointed at the aged yellow compact and smiled at her.

"Your piece of crap yellow human made car that is not an alien robot," she teased, shuttering an optic in a human like wink.

"All I could afford straight out of college until I get a job," he sighed.

"Can you afford walking shoes? Until you pay one hundred sixty eight dollars in parking fines, you're on footpads. Sign here."

_6:35 pm_

_Samuel Witwicky's Apartment_

Panting and wobbly legged, he stumbled in the front door of the small apartment. "Made it...next time...know... bus schedule." Flopping onto the nearest kitchen chair, leaning his head back as the breeze ruffled his hair. Outside sounds of car horns honking, people talking and general noises of the city below sounded. A dove cooed nearby and he smiled, imagining resting on a desert island, no cares and worries. The four mile walk home strained his feet with the new shoes, leaving sweat marks on his vest and suit coat. Designed to impress and not wrinkle, the thick material didn't breath or flex around his body. Most of it rested in a pile on the floor just inside the door, stripped off in the elevator ride up.

Opening his eyes, Sam took a minute to realize the bird sounds were still there. As in a gray and white pigeon sitting on his couch. "What the?" The bird strutted forward leaving a gooey white pile on the couch cushion. It hopped to the table, standing on his textbooks. "Get out! Eww, that's gross." Yelling, he moved forward. Breathing hard, foot sliding on the game controller as his arms windmilled for balance. The bird took flight, gracefully rising out the window as he lurched towards it. Screaming, Sam tried to grab the window sill, the peeling paint slicking under his sweaty palms.

He was falling. He was going to die.

Then the sound he knew in his soul, the three tone rise as transformation followed by a deep thrumming engine too powerful to have been built on earth. "I got you boy!" rang in his ears as the darkness overcame him.

_10:48 pm_

_Cook County Hospital_

"Prime?" Sluggish, external sensations slowly filtered in. Sam was lying on his back on a soft bed like surface. The smell of lemon and disinfectant filled his nostrils when he breathed. Faint beeping sounds indicated monitoring equipment as he moved. For once he didn't hurt. Eyes opened to light fainter than he remembered the Autobot med bay having.

"Easy Sam. You are in the psych ward," Ratchet leaned in, his angular faceplates showing his concern. The high ceiling barely gave the CMO space to move.

"Psych?" he repeated dumbly.

"Your attempt to self offline. Thank Primus that Optimus arrived in time to stop it. We were wrong to not monitor you closer after Egypt. Your demands for a normal life were a call for help which we ignored. We will listen now," he said.

"Suicide? No, I tripped. A bird," he mumbled, feeling heavy with the drugs. His brain refused to work, his hands barely moving as he struggled to focus.

"Your guardian will check on you later," he moved out of view range.

"Bee?"

"Bumblebee?" Ratchet moved back over him, frowning. "Sam, you insulted and fought the last time you saw him. He left for Cybertron and his shuttle never arrived. We were amiss not to assign you another guardian until now."

"Fought?"

"You made him park on the curb like an ordinary car when he showed up at your birthday party. Wouldn't even allow him in the garage or to celebrate with you. The drugs will help you sleep and forget."

"No! I...need him..." Thrashing, the bed covers fell onto the floor followed by his body. Landing with a thump he breathed in and out, lungs gasping for air as sweat ran down his brow. The sights and sounds of the Bumblebee's private quarters at Diego Garcia wavering into focus. "Bee!"

Bright blue optics blinked at him, contracting down as they scanned. The scout stood over the raised platform, gently scooping Sam up in his armored hands. The hum emanating from his systems deepened as Sam grasped the edges his front chest armor, the young man's breathing slowing. A holographic display flickered into existence across his metal palm. ::Nightmares? Need Ratchet?:: formed letter by letter in the air.

"NO! No Arcee, no Wheelie just you. You're my guardian and Bee, I promise you. The first place I get will have a freight elevator. Strong enough to hold your weight so you can come where I live. No more hiding in the garage. No more parking on the street. You're family and deserve better. I'll find a way to pay for it even if I have to be a janitor," Sam promised, reaching up to touch the speaker that served as his guardian's mouthpiece.

::You? Be CEO in a year when you get a job:: Bumblebee texted back.

"Me? Not even. No, I'm going to be a mid level executive. Big corner office, company car and two hour lunches. Let someone else handle the big headaches and life or death decisions. I'm going to college to learn international relations not save the world."

STORY ARC

ONE END, TWO PATHS (Prologue)

Optimus surveyed the ocean with dimly lit optics even as audios sharpened. The buzz of the human's computers mixing with the base security systems created a reassuring hum to his advanced systems. Not for their limited protection but the faint energy pulse feel of his home world. He looked upward, his optics seeking out the far quadrant of space that held their home world, beyond his long distance enhancements. Travel long enough in that direction and it would be there, shattered and scarred.

His hand rubbed wearily at his optics. "I had thought to return here as a temporary base. To move to the United States, openly declaring earth as our home until war's end. Yet I feel more distant from humankind now than when we first arrived." The nearby metal presence of parked armored carriers and munition storage for human use added to his darkening mood. The primitive security locks made him vent in derision. His weakest blaster would melt the door they kept locked and secure against any intrusion, even the Autobots. "Do the humans not understand we are fighting to save them as well? They are more trouble than the Decepticons." His frame sagged a little in weariness. A warning displayed in the corner of his optics display, his battle readiness dropping another four percent pending a full cycle defrag. A normal process he had been unable to achieve for nearly a human month. Ratchet would have his helm if he knew, though he suspected Elita did. Her comments before leaving on the current mission had him wondering which would happen first. Her turning him in when she returned or a battle injury landing him in med bay. Either way he would face the medic's wrath, one more demand on his time and energy to deal with.

Soft, unsteady footsteps reached his audios even as sensors honed in, identifying the source. Sneakers not military boots made the noise, crunching on gravel as their owner moved across the path, heading for the ocean.

"Hello Sam," Optimus greeted, his normal regal baritone flat sounding to even himself. Another transformer would have recognized the rough edges in his energy field. Only a human, the boy twitched, heart thudding, his head snapping up to meet blue optics.

"Oh hey. Didn't see you sitting there. Everything okay?" Sam asked, startled at finding the twenty eight foot Prime sitting in the darkness.

"I needed some 'fresh air' as your race says," Optimus dodging the question. The young man had enough of his own problems to deal with and his insistence on living a normal life away from the Autobots made the ancient mech reluctant to discuss a personal matter. "And you?"

"Pretty good, considering. I went to the White House. Met the President, even if only long enough to shake his hand. Got two medals and shown where the back exit is but hey, summer vacation is coming up. Maybe," he sniffed haughtily, head tilted back and nose in the air. "Add it as a stop to my world tour next year. If I have the time."

"I too was disappointed," Optimus admitted quietly.

"The lack of thanks or that they broke their promise of no more hiding?"

"More than that. I had hoped to offer my troops an area untouched by war, where they could be more than a scout or a medic. They could simply be. We were promised land around Mt St Hillary for our own city and now that too is on hold."

"I get it. A place to hang out with friends and family. That's cool," Sam said, sitting down by his armored leg.

Optimus smiled, the simple words summing up what he felt. Those under his command were more than fighting machines. They were his friends. His family. It was for their futures he fought. Some of the weariness dropped from his processors.

"Is that why you are out here? Planning to take over Annabelle's sand castle as a summer retreat?" Sam teased.

"I couldn't achieve full recharge."

"Oh. Dreams again?"

"Yes." No other words were needed. After Egypt they had stayed by each other for nearly a week. Sam to gain control over the glyphs flowing through his mind as Optimus struggled with the Seeker programming added from Jetfire's transfer. Both suffering from nightmares then drawing strength in realizing they were both having a normal reaction to the abnormal situation of dying and returning.

"Hmm. Actually...trying to cool down," he mumbled, skin temperature rising as he coughed and looked away.

"You were thinking... of Mikeala?" Optimus offered, recognizing signs of human arousal in the young man's body.

"No, uh this cute girl I met. Woman actually. Tall, blonde with this totally cool British accent. Right before the secret service kicked us out."

"Sam, they did not kick us out."

"Okay, told us we had fifteen minutes and our escort to the main road would be there," Sam mocked. "And am I telling this story or you big guy?"

Optimus nodded, wanting to hear more. It had been far too long since Sam had relaxed enough around him to tease the ancient mech. Or shown an interest in the opposite gender of his species.

"Anyways I'm thirsty and go to find a soda machine. She's there getting some bottled iced tea," he waved his hand in the air dismissing it. "But she's not moving over enough where I can put the money in. But she's hot. Curves to make a Corvette cry."

"I doubt Sideswipe would leak optical fluids at the image of a human femme. We find your race's lack of square shaped and formed lines a power down of our emotional circuitry," Optimus commented dryly.

"Huh?" He craned his neck up at the mech then grinned. "Oh! You mean turn off. Yah, probably would considering you're all metal."

"What was her name?"

"Carly.' Least that's what her tag said. Probably a secretary or something. Didn't see her in the Presidents office," he frowned, crossing his arms. "Hardly anyone was there to thank us for saving the world. Again."

Silence continued as they both stared at the water. Sam seeing only a large expanse of darkness while Optimus scanned down to the far lagoon edge, thermals detecting the underwater cabling carrying the bases power supply deep in the sand.

"What were you dreaming? If I can ask? Unless its too personal?" Sam asking the question the other had hoped to avoid.

"When I was younger, I knew only Alpha Trion as my parental mech. Later I learned Megatron and I were orphans raised as Trion's own, choosing our life paths. But fate cannot be ignored. When Megatron became power hungry, I ignored politics for my engineering work. Then everything changed." Optimus hesitated, the crash of emotions from his dreams replaying through his sensor array. "I dreamed of my early training as Prime. Only Sentinel wasn't there but Megatron and a horde of faceless mechs all laughing at me," Optimus admitted, his hand gouging out the sand dune as he formed a fist.

"Sentinel?"

"He who was a Prime before me, my mentor and teacher." Optimus voice was deep with respect.

"I don't think I've heard you mention him before. But he must have liked you? Picked you to be Prime and all."

"No Sam. The Matrix chose me. In that, we were both surprised. At the beginning I believe he resented having to accept me. Each candidate Sentinel trained it rejected. In time, I learned much from him and his wisdom on the battlefield and he named me as his successor."

Yawning, the boy shivered before hugging himself. "Sorry. Still on East coast time."

"You are tired and need to rest," Optimus chided gently, triggering his transform. Not the hurried battle speed but the slow, deliberate folding of each segment into his alt mode he rarely got to enjoy. The driver side door opened, allowing the human inside his cab. From practice, Sam moved across the seat and into the sleeper bunk across the back of the cab. Barely stretching out, he relaxed and fell asleep. External systems tied into Diego Garcia, Optimus settign his battle mode to trigger at any warning. And he left a digital note for both Ratchet and Ironhide where he was parked and why. Either might come looking for him and would worry with him not in his rooms or at the command center. Unable to recharge, archived memory files were retrieved and readied. "Activating now." And he was there.

Optics onlined slowly, the fuzzy image of a plain ceiling forming as a voice issued commands. "Don't move Orion. Let the power nodes settle first before attempting to sit up."

"Who?" Backup processors remained offlined, unable to identify the voice though he felt he should know it.

"My name is Sentinel Prime. And you are not what I expected," he said, moving into view. The tall red armored mech started at him, his expression hidden by a half formed battle mask. Deep scratches marred the side of his helm and his hand held the energy spear at ready.

"What happened?" He didn't hurt, realizing the lag time of medical coding locks. The heaviness and expanded sensor relays he would deal with later, when he could process clearer.

"You were attacked at the fuel docks. Your mate survives and is in this facility. My personal medical team is attending to her now. It was chance that you both survived and brought you into my presence. The Matrix of Leadership flared to life as winged mechs carried you limp form past me. At my command they stopped. I placed the Matrix in your open hand and it chose you. Why I'm not sure. I see a young bot raised by Alpha Trion, schooled in engineering and design for what? A common place femme and a menial job."

"I've built bridges and designed a city. I started as a file clerk and became more. A lesser mech would have given up long before now," Orion challenged, the heavy frame cumbersome as his systems tried adjusting to the height and sheer weight as he struggled to sit upright.

"A greater mech would have built half of Cybertron by now. By refusing the power to lead as Alpha Trion or your spark brother Megatron you are forced to beg and plead for projects. How many grand wonders sit in your processors, waiting for others to understand? To see the greatness you know can be achieved? Fuel docks? Installing power cranes to ease unloading of energon shippers instead of reaching for the stars themselves? That is not victory but sneaking in someone's else trash pit like a stray turbo fox. Do any of the projects bear your name? Ensure the safety and future of your clan? Your mate? She nearly offlined today because of stolen energon. Did you even try to defend yourself? Or her? Or stand there and be blasted because they didn't realize you were the grand designer Orion Trion?"

If he could have ducked his head he would have. The disapproval in the Sentinel's tone reminded him of the times he had disappointed his own father as a youngling, his words summing up Orion's own frustrations.

"You have been given a new frame and system upgrades. Ones befitting a Prime, even a new one. I will oversee your training personally," the red mech stated.

"Training?"

"In how to fight. I doubt you even know how to hold an energon sword let alone take your opponent's spark with it. And the petty squabbles you engaged in with your spark brother don't count. I'm talking part ripping energon shearing rip your spark out fighting, city builder. Or did you never cover escape routes and defense shields?"

"I did. Redundant safeties for all known emergencies," Orion stated.

"Optimistic aren't you? As Prime you have to plan for the worse then handle the fallout when those plans fail. Make the hard choices required without support or a committee to tell you what to do. It is not an easy existence nor one you can escape from."

"But being Prime means first and best of our race," Orion quoted.

"Best in all areas mechling. We rule the planet not offices and fellow clerks. Kaon is orns away form full rebellion, the high towers refuse our leadership wallowing in their own pleasures while the priests of Primus add to their continual list of demands. The lower castes chafe in their places, wanting what is beyond their reach. The Allspark is weakening, needing a sun's destruction to replenish itself. Artifacts of power known to the Dynasty of the Primes have been lost and assassinations have taken the three mechs who would have been Prime before you."

"Primus help me," Orion vented out.

"He may. Been awhile since he helped me," the mech grumbled, turning around. "Be at the training arena tomorrow at sunrise.

"But I have a work shift at the docks and..."

"NO!" The energy spear smashed down, melting a hole in the floor. "You are a Prime! Nothing else matters. Get that through your helm now. The life you knew is gone. Believe in Primus will or fate or whatever you want but understand. You are not Orion. You are..." he hesitated then made a decision. "Optimus Prime. In a few centuries, we will see if are worthy of that calling Optimus. For now, you will share your power with Megatron since you are reluctant to take your place. He will command the Defense Forces and you can guide the Science Division. I will be at the temple at Simfur."

"To commune with the Allspark?"

"To rest. I may be a direct descend from Primus but that doesn't make me immortal. If I am needed, I will respond. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one. You would do well to remember that."

_to be continued... _


	40. Chapter 40 Ironhide's story

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Back to rib hurting fun. Rule 1 takes place shortly after ROTF. Rule 2's new list will provide hours of endless fun. Not fun for Prowl but hey, that goes with the job of being Second In Command. Sideswipe and the butterflies take place before the events of ROTF. And the story arc will _**NOT**_ be all about the DOTM movie. I will reference it here and there in events but that will be a SEPARATE fic apart from this one.

This is, as always, dedicated to the readers who need a happy place to go to. Leo and Mikeala will be continue to be in flashbacks as well as other favorite characters. There is a new poll in my profile on what to visit again after over 100 chapters. Reviews are love; new chapters are hopes for better things. And yes, this one got long as it went. Blame finally having a day off from work. Anyone wanting to use parts can. Credit me in the notes somewhere and send me the link please. Good fics are hard to find. Onward to ignorance is bliss unless the twins are smiling.

TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TRANSFORMERS

_**304. Do not overestimate human's ability to perceive the truth. Holograms may fool us for a short time as a diversion. Humans will 'believe' what they see regardless of hard data to the contrary. Cross reference rules on imaginary creatures, previously offlined humans and general hologram use.**_

The college completed rebuilding, the new library wall up and sealed, the plaque on it proudly listing the names of those contributors who provided the major funding. The young man walking down the steps, brushing the brown hair out of his eyes, giving thanks every time he passed it that it was not a memorial plaque listing names of those deceased. "My name would have been the first, and my roommate Leo another though there were times I wish he was gone or at least bound and gagged in the back of a transformer. Or Mikeala. Forgot her birthday last week but at least it made her quit mentioning that day. One stolen kiss and suddenly I'm in the doghouse for life. Wheelie forgave me. Bumblebee chewed me out for endangering myself then forgave me. Why can't Mikeala? Not like we are engaged or anything. Only discovered an alien race together."

Crossing the student walkway, Sam breathed normally, refusing to remember his harried flight up the stairs dropping books as glyphs flashed across his vision. Or the race across the same area later in the opposite directing with the Decepticon Pretender trying to kill him. The spring day drove such dark memories far from him though they could not contain the wistful sigh at the empty parking space normally holding a certain black and yellow Camaro. The young bot away on a training mission in the Middle East. His nightly calls mostly complaining about sand in his gears and the lack of paved roads. Bumblebee had even threatened to take an aerial mode and Sam had laughed, imagining a yellow Cumulus motor glider or Piper TG-8 mini plane greeting him the next time they met. Though secretly Sam hated heights. The fall from the building into Optimus hands had done little to reassure his fears. "Whoever said get back up on the horse after falling never faced Megatron," he muttered, adjusting the history books under his arm. His backpack held his laptop and other gear, stuffed too full for the heavy books. The other students passing by ignoring him, the novelty of the previous semester worn off. The government hid the attack on the Pyramid and most of the public accepted the cover up and lies. Sam himself worried more about the three-hour limit on his essay test than returning Decepticons in faraway lands. Opening the door to his dorm room, he pushed harder than normal, shoving the discarded clothes and smelly sneakers out of the way to cross into his half of the room neatly organized and ready for serious studying.

"Yo bro! Did you see her?" Leo greeted, practically bounding out of the side doorway that led to the computer room. Once his secret pride and joy, he had found online conspiracies less interesting after dodging Devastator's giant feet pads. The young man slouched against the doorway, his rumpled clothes bearing stains of chocolate ice cream among the striped patterns on the shirt.

"Her who?" resting on the bed, Sam sighed before unpacking his backpack. A nap would have been nice but impossible with Leo in the room. Or his studying schedule.

"You know who," Leo waved his hands as if to summon her with a spell. "The new hot chick in your history class. The grad student with red hair, green eyes and the biggest..."

"Hey! I don't want to hear that!" Sam protested, his glare evident as he expertly rapped a fist on his laptop, ensuring it was not a transformer waiting to grab him. Never could be too careful.

"Biggest feet. She's a size what? Fourteen double D wide?" The college student pointed down at his own feet, pretending to be hurt Sam would consider any other area.

"So what? You have a fetish for feet now?"

"Nah man. But I bet she can run fast. Need a girl that can keep up when fleeing from aliens," he smiled.

"And speaking of our alien visitors," Sam pointed to the laptop screen and the small green digital readout in the corner. "Three minutes to activation. Let me know to stop it before anyone else comes in the dorm room."

"Three minutes? It won't explode or self destruct will it or spike a tail?" Leo asked, his eyes going wide as he backed up a few steps towards the window. With his messy habits, piles of clothing and books lay between him and the only exit door out their shared room. The window and fire escape might actually be easier.

"No, Bumblebee cleared it after Optimus approved it. Well, they didn't tell him what it does exactly but it doesn't break any obvious rules," Sam coughed nervously, hoping his roommate would understand Sam had it, no it could not be borrowed, mentioned or used to talk to girls with. The countdown completed, a final warning flashing before multicolored bubble shapes filled the screen.

Grimacing, his roommate moved closer when nothing dangerous happened. "Isn't that, you know, a feminine screen saver? You hang with giant alien robots that turn into cool cars and you have bubbles?"

"Says the dude who uses three shampoos and two conditioners on his hair," Sam retorted.

"My hair needs the work. Girls appreciate a head of hair," Leo said then blinked as the first bubble floated off the screen and into the room. Bright blue, it floated towards the far wall with a soft, flouncy movement as the color sparkled in the sun. A yellow super size bubble joined it, rising straight up as a pink fuzzy one dropped towards to floor.

"Neat huh?" Sam gestured before explaining. "Annabelle has the original program, hence the shiny colored bubbles. Whatever the screen has, with certain limits, becomes three dimensional holographic representations within ten feet of the laptop."

Leo gasped, his mind conjuring up images. "Wait! Can I use it to?"

"Whoa! I know what you're thinking and no, I am not loading images of girls on here for you to see. It's a screen saver not graphics display for your perverted mind," Sam closed the laptop down with a click, his decision on the matter final.

"I'm not perverted, just perfected bro."

"Perfect as pizza in the quad? It's Tuesday and I'm buying," he sidetracked Leo, closing the outer door behind them when the left. Relaxed, he never saw the dirty sock jammed in the hinge, tumbling off the overflowing clothes hamper when thrown. Ten minutes later, the not quite closed door opened and two figures in dark clothes crept in. A minute later they were gone, only the power cords hooked into the wall to show where the laptop had been.

Next floor up, the two thieves entered their dorm room, chuckling at how easy it had been. The younger of the two opened the laptop, inserting a game disk in the disk drive.

"Dude! Check how fast this loads! The battlefield is ready, zombies and ghosts in place and I don't even know where my cheat codes book is," the dark clothed student whined. He scrounged through a pile of books, each a game reference manual as the screen remained unchanged, the zombie battle ready as a small green window appeared the lower left corner.

_Screen saver activation: Three minutes_

"That will show that Witwicky kid. Thinking he's so smart," the roommate triumphantly held up the paper manual before groaning. "Wrong one. Zombies and vampires not werewolves. Frank, you seen my guide?"

"No! Though we took him to school!" Frank stated, posing before the mirror. He picked a piece of lint off his tight latex shirt. "I took astronomy for an easy A and what happens? These muscles get upstaged by a geeky freshman with weird ideas. Now it's time for payback. Witwicky needs to exercise his muscles but he ain't got any."

"The brain is a muscle, learned that in science class," the younger man said, grabbing more gaming books out of the closet.

_Screen saver activation: Two minutes_

"Learn this, learn that. Why don't they teach the important stuff? Like teamwork or being sportsmanlike."

"Uhm, sportsmanlike conduct doesn't include stealing other people's stuff."

"Says you," Frank retorted. "Coaches steal each other's plays. Drafts are for beginners. Good players are bought by the best teams. Second place is first place losers."

_Screen saver activation: One minute_

"Fr..fr...frank!"

"Wh..wh...what? Is there a spider on the wall again? You are such a wimp." He mocked, rubbing the last of the aftershave in. Turning, his hair nearly stood on end as the zombie opened its mouth, blood dripping down between broken teeth. Silently it moved, the rotting flesh hanging from broken bones as the clawed hand raised.

Doors up and down the hallway opened at the high pitched screams. "Is that the fire alarm?"

As their bodies tumbled out the door into the hallway, frantic to escape the zombies, the power pack died on the laptop. Made for normal human usage, the holograms drained it too quickly. Campus security came when called, citing the two for theft and having alcohol when neither were twenty one years old. Sam refused to press charges, grateful to have the laptop back in his possession. He found the game disk, throwing it away. Half decaying game characters were nothing compared to facing NBE's.

_**305. Do not make my job harder! I have enough to do without you thick plated loose chipped slaggers **__**messing up my schedul**__**e. If I could, I'd throw you all into the brig and forgot the lock code so I could get my work done!**__ * Draft version only. Complete rule to follow pending release from med bay._

DIEGO GARCIA ISLAND, NEST BASE

AUTOBOT COMMAND BUILDING, PROWL'S OFFICE

"Prowl?" Optimus called softly. The ancient Prime paused in the open doorway, unsure of the situation. Prowl was never late and their scheduled meeting in Prime's office was twenty minutes past. His normally active Second In Command officer was faceplate down on his desk, white armored arms wrapped over his head as his chassis sagged in the desk chair. The vibrant energy signature and the faint clicker and whir sounds reassured he was not in stasis lock or in recharge.

"They hate me."

Mumbled, it took his systems a bit to unscramble the softly spoken words. Then confirm the other truly said it. Prowl never used the word hate. Autobots did not hate, the emotion to strong for their attitudes and beliefs_._

"I disagree. We respect your command even if we ignore your rules at times." Not the most intelligent of arguments Optimus reflected, moving inside the room.

"It's this list," one white armored hand moved outward enough to tap a stubby finger on a datapad.

"And?"

"There are forty entries in the time the list has existed twelve breems. Do you know how many can be added? My statistical calculator jammed trying to figure it out. It won't reboot even when I tried linking it into my processors," he finally raised his helm, the blue optics far paler than normal. Prowl's expression bordered on sad and he swore Prowl would have been pouting his lower lip plate if it had flexed that way.

"I don't understand why a list would be a problem," Optimus finally admitted, calling to Ratchet for help over the medical frequency. He took the chance Prowl would miss the short encrypted burst. While Optimus could contain the black and white mech if he truly glitched, he always found it difficult to do. His size and power designed for battling enemies, not tackling his own troops. Too often injuries occurred on his own frame during the scuffle followed by wrench dents later.

"Do you remember the first time on earth you _. Please follow with the detailed story of the learning event." Prowl quoted, staring at the screen as if Unicron himself had left the message.

"What is the blank line at the end of the first sentence?'

"The human's way of causing trouble for an overworked bot who is trying to make rules to simplify their lives and they do this!" he began. A single motion and he stood tall, his black and white wing doors flaring out like an angel of vengeance. "Do they appreciate my sacrifices or hard work? Nooo. They make holograms and plan ways to go around my rules. They keep secrets from me to post on a list that is also against the rules! Does no bot understand? It's my job to tell them no! You said it yourself. You ignore what I say!"

:: Yelling at Prowl is not going to help. You should know that by now:: Ratchet pinged back his location outside the front of the building.

:: I am not yelling he is. New list has unbalanced his processor:: Optimus retorted, calculating the exact angle to pin Prowl against the wall without damaging the other's more fragile wing doors.

:: What is the list?:: Ratchet

:: The first time on earth you did blank. Blank being the event or action. Apparently, these occurrences never officially recorded and Prowl is just now finding out about them:: Optimus winced as he read it, making a note to deal with the twins and Hound later on number nineteen. Moreover, number thirty-three explained last month, even if they missed telling him about it. :: I finally understand why Captain Jorgenson refuses to ride in me. Or turns bright red when she sees me. Apparently, they made a human size holographic image of me, timed to appear in her bedroom at night, next to her on the bed::

:: That does sound interesting. I will read the list later:: Ratchet answered, his heavy treads sounding outside the door.

:: Ratchet! This is serious. Prowl needs help:: Optimus grumbled.

:: NEI. Not enough information. Do you know how many strange, vague 'I tripped and this happened' excuse injuries I treat around here? Might be nice to know how the injury actually occurred to prevent it later in some bot else:: Ratchet stated, moving into the room. The fight that ensued lasted a few seconds. Optimus using his mass to pin the other in place as Ratchet injected medical coding to induce stasis. Carried by both bots towards med bay, twin yellow and red mechs watching from a distance.

"Any of those entries I should know about?" Sunstreaker asked, wanting to get into the office to see that list.

"You should. You helped on all but one. Entry number five. First time I tried getting a butterfly collection for Annabelle. Happened right after I landed on earth," Sideswipe admitted, his memory core replaying the event.

"Pretty!" the little girl laughed, her finger outstretched towards the flowers. Sideswipe vented softly, the expelled air rustling the tropical flowers as he bent closer to scan them for dangers. Annabelle moved fast and even standing behind his left foot pad, he took no chances. Targeting locks engaged as shapes fluttered upwards. A bare astro second kept them and half the walkway from obliteration.

_Non-threat, weapons standby: Organic creatures. Confirm: Not Insecticons_

"Butterflies. They pretty. All colors," she giggled, clapping her hands.

He vented again, wondering what he had done to get this punishment. "Joining NEST should mean fighting with new allies, not guarding this noisy sparkling. Arcee got mainland patrols and I got this? Should have stayed hidden with the Wreckers. Why did Prime order me here?" The very point he asked Arcee that night.

"You have spark sitting duty again tomorrow," Arcee noted, her tri units slowly powering down for the night. The few humans in the hangar at the other end ignored their conversation in Cybertronian. They had no way to translate it and the two smaller bots of lower rank were welcome but not anyone they answered to.

"Why me?"

"Three reasons. One, show the humans you are not a threat. Two, you are on punishment detail for ignoring orders on our first encounter with Decepticons. You nearly blew our cover blowing up that car dealership trying to find one Con. Until you get back in Prime's good graces you should count your energon cubes you are not on scrap detail the rest of your existence here," the warrior femme reminded.

"And reason three?" His optics blazed, considering her explanation. His twin did better on figuring and planning, he preferred direct action.

"Ironhide treasures that little human like his own sparkling. If you want to be back on the front lines as a melee warrior, you need his approval. "

"Wait a parsec. He trusts me with Annabelle is a good thing?"

"What, you think she's handed to any bot? You are our master sword fighter. Next to Ironhide, you're the best protection around. Or hadn't you realized if she's happy he is happy which makes the human commanding officer happy? She and her parental femme are visiting for a short time. If you can't endure it then go back to space. Planet needs guardians more than it needs god like arrogance mech. Good recharge," she finished, folding down into her motorcycle alt mode.

Morning found him on stock duty, manually cataloging shipments of supplies unloading off the cargo plane. "Primitive backwards world. No scanners, no drones to fetch and carry. What is all this?" Ripping open a wood crate, small white shapes fluttered upward off the parachutes inside.

"Pests," he started to laser them then stopped. Instead, a small square of metal slid back on his wrist. Silently the metal tube extended, creating a faint popping noise as the air and white fliers were sucked into a holding tube. "Give these to Annabelle and maybe they can keep her busy." Two hours later, he felt vindicated. The little girl not only loved her flying surprise but also left him alone. As in pouring through books to identify the type of butterfly and how to take care of them properly.

Mere seconds and the internet provided his answer._ Kingdom: Animalia. Phylum: Arthropoda. Class: Insecta. Order: Lepidoptera. Family: Tineidae. Genus: Tineola. Species: T Bisseliella. __"_Too bad humans could not access it except through primitive hardware."

"Can we keep these a secret?" Annabelle breathed, holding the glass jar as if it was her greatest possession.

"Only if you promise to keep my secrets," the silver mech offered. It took another scan of the internet to realize her head bobbing back and forth meant an enthusiastic 'yes' and not a glitch in her movement gears. One week later he transferred from spark sitter to front line warrior, never mentioning what he had done. Her father, Will Lennox found out while looking for his dress uniform a month later.

"Annabelle!" He pushed the spare bedroom door open to check on the little girl, needing her to help search. His on base quarters were small but she thought like her mother. If anyone could find where Sarah had put it after cleaning last month, Annabelle could. The brown pile inside the glass case had him gasping. "My uniform! What happened?"

"Sideswipe gave me these and they were hungry. You said you didn't like it. Made you sweaty and itchy," Annabelle admitted, ducking her head at his tone.

"Sideswipe gave you?" He asked, standing next to her and the chewed shreds of the uniform he needed.

"Yup. A present. He is nice, he listens, and I like him. Not as much as Ironhide but he's okay."

"Nice," the officer repeated numbly.

"They're not butterflies but clothing moths. They like wool. Dirty clothes make them happy, especially sweaty ones. But you got to keep them away from food. That is why he made me this box. I can see them and they eat and fly and make new baby moths," she smiled.

"Baby moths?"

"Uh huh. I let them go with some of the mommies. There were too many in here," she pressed against the glass, her breath fogging a patch.

"Let them go where?" his hand moved towards the radio on his hip, the emergency number for maintenance clicking in his mind.

"All over base. They need room to grow," she smiled.

'Room enough a certain mech I know won't be able to hide from me," he grumbled, typing out the text. Thankfully, they were on an island and the small fragile creatures would drown before reaching the mainland. His fingers stopped typing as his brain went into overdrive. "The flight. Please no."

"What daddy?"

"Nothing pumpkin," he smiled, suppressing the panic he felt. His eyes darted towards the wall clock, estimating the time before the planeload arrived. The plane carrying nearly a hangar full of spare supplies to Nellis Air Force base for long-term storage. He keyed the signal code from memory. "Sideswipe, meet me at the communications platform in twenty minutes."

"I didn't release them randomly. I'm smarter than that," Sideswipe stated, his swords retracted as he stood still. Rolling on his feet pad wheels tended to upset humans and made them complain about twisting all directions to follow him. And Optimus and Ironhide standing on either side kept him on best behavior. "I did no harm to them as living creatures and no rules were broken."

"So what did you do with them?" Will asked, pulling at the over tight collar of his spare uniform.

"Put them where they could be useful."

"Useful? They eat material! Do you know the danger they pose?"

"Or potential for fun. Name the human on base who wears the ugliest, most impractical clothing," Sideswipe hinted.

"You didn't."

"I did."

General Morshower's face filled the communication screen. "Any one there care to tell me why Director Galloway is refusing to attend this meeting because, and I quote "he has nothing to wear?"

**STORY ARC**

**ONE END, TWO PATHS (part 1)**

"As easy as ABD," Will stated, signing off on the final battle plan. Scrubbing at the stubby beard growth, he accepted the hot cup of coffee from Epps. The late night hour and being in the spare hangar gave them privacy, only three humans and two mechs present.

"Daddy, it's not ADB," Annabelle said, pausing her datapad lesson. "It's ABC. Everybody and bot knows that."

"ABD as in Army Digitized Battlefield," Will explained, pointing at the mechs standing close by. "Best way to work with them and not waste ammo."

"I like my ABC's better. Always Be Careful Decepticons Everywhere Fear Great Hulking Ironhide," she began with a giggle. Her blond ponytail swung as she covered her mouth with her hands.

"She was little when I taught her that," Ironhide sheepishly admitted as they all turned to look at him.

"She's still little," Ratchet noted.

"That why you taught her how to swear?" Ironhide retorted.

"Me? You're the foul mouthed slagger."

"Only around patients too thick plated to understand simple medical directions like stay off the injured parts until they are repaired."

"Can't you play nice together?" Annabelle's soft feminine human voice interrupting them.

"We do!" they chorused together.

"Uh huh. Optimus told Prowl he wished you would work together more and fight less. Almost as bad as the twins but I like you both. Can I stay with you forever?"

"Not forever," Ratchet replied absently, promising to have a talk with Optimus. At his next full physical that suddenly appeared on the schedule.

"As long as you want," Ironhide rumbled, his processor shying away from facing their situation. She had the potential as a human civilian of existing longer than he did. Ancient, he knew any battle could be his last. Everyone thought him indestructible but he knew better. The other bots woke each morning with renewed hope for the war to end. Any morning he pulled out of recharge and his footpads hit the floor intentionally meant another day of survival.

The next time Annabelle took her afternoon nap, still use to a North American time zone half a world away, he keyed open his digital recorder, wrapping the blank file with heavy security protocols.

He considered the usual 'If I'm gone I messed up but here,' message then discarded it. "Not a slagging goodbye note, ain't spare parts yet" he rumbled. "Annabelle, you are like my own sparkling and one of the duties of a parental mech is to teach. Pit! Been around command too long. Sound boring. This message I leave for my sparklings, whether flesh or metal so you may know my spark." And he began recording, layering memory packets under the words. Annabelle might never be able to access them but other Transformers could. And learn something that could save them one day.

IRONHIDE ENTRY:

Keep it simple, is the best advice I have ever heard. On the battlefield, they shoot, I move, they miss, and I shoot them back. Only I don't miss. They raise a weapon and it's all over for them. They run without shooting or hurting any bot, I let them go. Barricade survived Mission City that way. Raced for the exit with his tailpipe tucked, my threats ringing across his communications array.

A good growl does more than a breem of explaining and a growl with a short threat puts fear in the strongest mech. Not that I am not capable of carrying it out. I don't want to. Rough language is a wonderful way to communicate what you mean. All the flowery pleasing words don't mean a cube's worth of energon as the phrase "Get the slag out of my way!" or "Pit spawned" or even words yelled at a volume and speed they are nigh recognizable. I quoted battle regulations once to new recruits at a fast clip at full volume and they ran for their sparks instead of listening to me tell them about how to clean dusty weapon locks.

As a youngling I never was that threatening. Okay, maybe I was. I did not start any fights but I finished every one. I was the youngest of the clan and that taught me how to fight. Not with weapons or over energon but try telling a mech twice your size and three times your height to give you your toy back. Dent enough shin plates and they get tired of explaining to the parental units why they were the one hurt when picking on a smaller bot. The rest is history until I enlisted in the Planetary Defense Forces. Back when they actually protected Cybertron and weren't Megatron's handpicked drones.

"New recruits, to the firing line," started it. I hit every target, even if only skimming the outer edges. The combat instructor vented lightly, a smile on his faceplates. I, being young and wanting to impress my first command ask, "Any other bot done that good?"

"No but that high score means you can become a sniper."

"Nah, I don't want that. I wanna see my target and hit it! With the big guns," I smirked, striking my palm with my metal fist.

"Big? This might work," he grins back. Anytime a combat instructor smiles, start running. He pulls out a war cannon from the storage room, magnetizing the piece to fit on my lower arm plate.

I try it and love it. Except for one problem. "It's too heavy, pulls me down on that side," I grumped.

"Here," he hands me another one, watching as I tried locking it on my other arm. Two cannons? Maybe I could do this. I step to the firing line again, raising my arms.

Next thing my memory core holds is me embedded in the opposite wall, ringing in my audios and a smoking ion cannon on each arm plate.

"Sorry, the recoil adjusters were never meant to compensate for two equal forces. That is some hole you made in the wall."

"My hide is tough, like Iron," I answered even as the floor seemed to dip under me. Medical alerts flash across my optics, nearly filling my vision until I start dismissing them.

"Ironhide? Hmm, that will do as a warrior's name for now."

And it stuck. Oh, I could have taken other names but power hungry bots who need others to hold them up take names like 'Mega' this or 'Shock' that. Their whole transform becomes the weapon. Me? My name fit just fine. Gave me an excuse to build my armor up nicely too. And I use my weapons not exist as one. I joined the ground forces and first thing they do is throw titles at you. Like your existence fits that one or two word description. Prime for leader or Second In Command or Ultra this and Omega that. Mine happened thanks to a smart aft new guard. Stands outside the Allspark Temple proper and refuses to let me in.

"You need to finish the door entry. What is it you do?" He points to the empty page as I bite back a nasty suggestion of where and how he could put his datapad. The Temple at Simfur is special and the one place I keep my manners. Otherwise, this punk would be spitting out vocal gears at my feet. Either I have access or not. What do they need with more info? Why don't they just ask what hand I empty my waste tanks with or what color my protoform braces are and let me pass. Then it hits me. The perfect way to outsmart this youngling taking his job way too seriously.

"Me? I'm a weapons specialist."

"Specializing in what weapon?" His hand moves, ready to type out my answer.

"All of them. Not just what I carry either." I'm betting any second the entire guards is going to show up or this mech is going to cave, his processors locking as his chassis slumps to the pavement. I am hoping the guard shows. Be a good drill. I trained most of them and ain't seen a one lately except from a distance.

"All?" He repeats.

"I said weapons as in plural buddy. Your audios need checking?"

"Specializing means to concentrate one's efforts in a special activity, field, or practice or to undergo specialization; especially to change adaptively," he quotes as if challenging me.

"And that's what I do," I smirked and leaned close. "I know more weapons than you got parts. Can use them, modify them and hide them. You are targeted by fifty-four systems right now. Wanna guess how many itty bitty parts to scrape up if ya keep annoying me?"

His optics widened at my bluff even if I was not sure how much I was bluffing. I pass by, not one line on that form filled in besides what I wanted to put there. The Temple head officer loves my attitude and mentions the encounter to the head of the Council Security. I get transferred, as in guarding the Primes in council meetings. Finally, I am into the action. How slagging wrong I was! First time I learned to recharge standing upright, battle systems ready to engage.

Then the attacks happen. Aliens, mysterious flying robots and any other oddity you name is blamed for the energon thefts. Me, I figure its disgruntled locals tired of pushing against Iacon forces, causing trouble. Imagine my surprise when the head officer calls me into his office for a private meeting. "You are being reassigned. With the attacks I need your skills elsewhere."

"Meaning?" Why waste time asking questions when he can just tell me?

"I need you as bodyguard to the new Prime," he says.

I frown, running the concept through my processors. "Another Prime? Hadn't heard we lost one." I wasn't being callous just practical. Primes keep us fighting but not winning. If they were good at their job, they remained online. The worse don't, not for long. The galaxies way of ensuring their bad tactics or timing is not passed on. Megatron executed those Decepticon leaders who failed and returned, we tended to promote the Autobot version if they survive long enough. Only explanation I can process of why Mechner is a Prime but that is for later. In the beginning we were always a step behind, arriving after the attack happened, not sure who the enemy was. They didn't leave witnesses.

"We didn't lose one. The Matrix of Leadership from Iacon has a carrier finally. Sentinel installed it himself. Meet the mech in two breems in the Hall of Heroes by the main lift. Good battling," he dismisses me.

"Offline with honor," I answer automatically, leaving the office. A new Prime? The only time I handled a Matrix was to move it from one temple room to another for cleaning. It hummed but never lit, thank Primus! Now I get to guard whomever it did pick.

The Hall of Heroes is overdone to my tastes. Supersize statues of past leaders that are probably laughing their afts off in the Well of Sparks for how they are remembered. The far transport lift opens, the blue and red armored figure looking around. He sees me, curiosity in his expression and I vent deeply. 'This youngling is the new Prime? Primus! Mechner and the other Primes are going to blow a spark spire.'

"Are you Ironhide?" he asks, his deep baritone vocal catching me by surprise. The femmes are going to love hearing him speak. Except my Chromia. Words don't sway her. Least it gives me something to work with.

"And you are?"

"Optimus... Prime," he answers, almost stumbling over his name.

Great. Confidence to the core in this one. He answered me without finding out his question, not the usual Prime attitude. They bark orders without looking to see if they are followed. Too many times we are below their field of vision. I escort him to the council chamber and make bets on how long this assignment is going to last. He surprises me every time. Smart, plans ahead and actually seems to understand the lower clans. The only Prime thing about him is his title and his grand speeches.

"Keep your battle mask engaged, hides your expression," I tell him an orn later.

"What about your mask?" He asks, his optics trying to focus. Slammed down onto the training mat, even his sensors take an astro second to reset. But he's learning. Took me longer than ever to get him off his feet pads. Best fun I've had in a while and he needs to know he's not invincible.

"Gave it up vorns ago. Hard to snarl when they can't see you," I grunted. He is taller but our mass is about the same at this point. First time he is in the medic's hands I am ordering thicker armor. One sniper shot or ricochet and the Matrix transfers to the next in command. Flaming fate ain't handing it to me with his energon coating it, no way. Worse, he has a femme. She doesn't need the spark break either. I add a Second In Command and Third in Command officer to my growing needs list. We are going to need capable officers in those positions to allow me to do my work as bodyguard and trainer. Sentinel has many skills but teaching ain't one of them. He tends towards the brutal, see that smoking wreckage? Do not fight that way. See that damaged city, these commands went wrong and that happened. Do not do that. Me? I can teach him the why something went wrong as a tactician can explain it fancy. The attacks are changing and we need to adapt. Not making the same mistakes ain't teaching. This youngling has to learn and it's my job to ensure he remains online long enough to do it.

Our first real battle ain't. Chance we were even there. Suppose to be visiting a storage facility for the Science Division when the explosions began. Optimus takes command, giving orders no bot follows. It is a rout. Scientists tried protecting their finds, the locals stayed to watch and the few guards barely fired back. The only defense forces in the area waited to get their orders while sitting on their afts at the command post. What happened to processing being a skill? You hear fighting you go join it. If I didn't know better I would say Megatron picked the soldiers early in the war because they were smart enough to hold a gun and dumb enough to listen to anything he said. Back then, we didn't know he was the Decepticon leader but it didn't make the situation better. A nameless faceless enemy still kicked our afts.

Optimus orders all available defense forces and Elite Guard in the area to meet with him. I watch as he faces them. I wait, making mental bets on what he will say.'I figure it's the we have our afts kicked so see the medics and not our fault speech.' Looking at the strength in his movements, the way his optics seem to meet each warrior there before moving to the next I change my processing. 'Nope, he's going to do the talk to each officer, something personal like I care and you all did well. Go see the medics and hope we do better later.'

Once again, he surprises me. Will I ever figure him out?

"There is no excuse for what happened today. We had superior numbers and technology. Instead, we lost a critical fuel depot storage as well as the building housing ancient artifacts of our history. Moreover, sparks were lost. That is unacceptable," Optimus stated.

"The emergency plan fell apart. We didn't know what to do next. It didn't cover aerial and ground attack or neutrals staying around to watch," the lead guard states. Granted, he fought but not real well. And he's in command because the two officers above him were too slow to dodge attacks aimed their direction. Nothing like a promotion because you duck and hide the fastest.

"The neutrals paid the price for curiosity with their sparks. We had enough warriors to protect them and the depot. We scattered like smelter fragments before a recycling drone. The reports sent back to me lacked the information I needed to know. There is no dishonor in running to save sparks. That is why I called for the retreat. But I will not allow this to happen again," Optimus said.

"How can you plan for everything?" A bot from the front called out.

"We don't even know who the enemy is for sure," another complained.

"What if they block our communications? We need to know what to do, and you were too far away," a tall mech said.

"That is why I will lead the next battle."

His calm statement has my systems in a flux. "Lead? Is he slagging insane?" Primes stay on the sideline with their tacticians, giving orders not making themselves a target. Sentinel Prime is the only fighter and he is sneaky. Carries the nastiest weapons and sets tactical traps. Enemy never sees what hits them. Even pretended to surrender once to buy time to bring his secondary weapons online. Claimed the need to stop the mech outweighed the need to honor his surrender. Alive, he would have been too great a threat and Sentinel chose the hard choice. What had to be done he said. But this? Lead a battle? Optimus means it. I run my black armored hand down my faceplates. His bravery with my armor to protect it. Oh yeah, I know this drill. Worse, the medics know me. Maybe I could convince my femme to become a medical assistant? Spend more time with her that way.

Nineteen battles and he never fails to lead. I feel like my entire world has flipped upside down. I watch the medics repairing the shredded fragment that is Optimus leg and grin. Not for his wound or his pain, the neuron sensors are fried and he feels nothing from the hip plate down I bet. Been there too many times myself. No, he has given me hope. For the first time, the forces retreating were the Decepticons. Now we have a victory and know our enemy. Megatron. Every battle he leaves before we could get close enough. This time he and Optimus fought before the seekers laid cover fire to save metal head's aft.

And junior over there took a face. Shredded the very identity of the mech he fought. Pit spawned Con snuck behind our lines to shoot the wounded and the medics helping them. Fighting on the battlefield is one thing but offlining the retrieved? Not even the parts grabbers are that low. Prime there took his spark and his face in a rage, crippled leg and all. Now the story is spreading faster than a bad case of cosmic rust. He fights for us. He took a face. The new Prime is a warrior who fights with us. I am hearing their excited whispers, getting communication updates from the security team. They should be monitoring for enemy chatter indicating another attack but I let it slide. Optimus earned this moment and the troops need a rallying point. He will make mistakes. Like getting ahead of my weapons fire, costing him a leg and nearly his spark but they will not follow because he is perfect. They will follow because his spark is in it. He leads because he cares. And who knows? He might get it right and end this war. Either way, I am rolling with him.

"Sir, your parental mech is here," one of the medics announce, inserting an energon drip into his arm.

Parental? Primes don't have parents. The dynasty of Primes is all but extinct, even the legend has faded over time. Who could be here? I pull the entry records from the hallway guards and nearly have a spark attack. "You're Alpha Trion's mech? " I vent rapidly in disbelief. Memory cores pull up the image of two mech sparklings in Alpha's arms, the formal presentation to the council. I only glimpse them entering as I stand guard at the council chambers. Now one of those sparklings is on the medical berth before me?

"But that means…" I trail off.

He nods, never saying a word. Megatron, leader of the Decepticons and the mech that tried taking our sparks breems ago is his brother. As in raised with, play and grew up sharing their life together brother. They shared power for nearly two generations as Prime and Lord Protector before the war began. And he has never said. I was so busy guarding his back I never processed how he became Prime. Only that he was.

_To be continued..._


End file.
